


Bright as the Sun

by awerewolf



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, POV Lavellan, POV Solas, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Trespasser Spoilers, the POV switches basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awerewolf/pseuds/awerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noll Lavellan agrees to make the long journey to the Conclave in order to spy for her clan. However, she isn’t sure whether or not she wants to return to them. Her relationship with her clan is strained and she is unsure what path she should take. At the Conclave, her curiosity guides her.</p><p>Formerly titled "Hiraeth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was warm when she left.

Bel was glaring at her from across the camp. He was angry, but he had no right to be. This was her decision. It was her life.

Noll would be given a horse, not a halla, to ride upon to get to the conclave. Her clan kept few horses so she was advised to keep it as safe as she could. She was not skilled at healing magic but she knew one spell that would suffice if it was injured.

Deshanna was standing nearby, the picture of wisdom and patience. She had many lines upon her old skin, but today they were less severe. She was happy.

The choice for the conclave was either she- the First of the clan- or Bel, the most talented hunter. Noll had been… less than helpful as of late. They needed food more than they needed her, and the clan had five other mages to spare if she perished. This was the wisest choice, and Deshanna was happy for it.

It was not that Deshanna wanted Noll out of sight, it was that she thought the trip might help temper her. Interaction with shems, a reminder of what the outside world held, might soften her spirits. Noll doubted it.

Bel approached, finally, and dropped two packs at her feet. “This is all you should need for the trip ahead.” He said. “If you run out of rations, you’ll have to hunt.” He smirked. “You do remember how to hunt, emma l- lethellan?”

“I remember.” She replied bluntly.

He shifted on his feet. “How long do you think you will be gone?”

“However long I am gone. I don’t have a precise timeframe in mind.”

He looked down at his feet, his mouth twisting bitterly. “If you’re expecting for me to apologize for something I didn’t do, then don’t hold your breath. You’re not the only one hurting from-”

She turned to him then, all golden eyes and spite, and grabbed the bags up from their feet. “You’ve no reason to explain yourself to me. It’s done with. I’m only doing my job now.”

“You can still change your mind.” He offered. “I can still go in your place.”

“I’ll be fine. You cannot go anyhow. The clan would starve without you.” It was not a compliment.

Noll was attaching the bags to the saddle when his hand found her shoulder.

“Dareth.” He told her, and she pulled away.

Her mother found her next, both sadness and pride hiding in the face that was so much like her own. They said little to each other, for there were no need for words between them. No one knew her so well as her mother, no one had blessed her life so well as the woman who’d gave her life. Emotion swelled in Noll’s chest as she embraced her tightly.

“You can still come with me.” Noll offered through clenched teeth. She would not cry, not over this.

“I am too old, da’len.” She drew back and took a long look at her mother. Her hair was more grey than black now, but her eyes were still sharp. She could survive, but Noll could not force her to go if she did not want to…

Noll smiled sadly. “Don’t turn to dust while I’m gone, old woman.”

Her mother laughed. “I will try not to. Perhaps you could find Zathrian’s clan and find his secret to immortality, that would keep me alive forever.”

“Perhaps if we cross paths, I will ask.” She was serious now.

“Do not endanger yourself, da’len.” Her mother reached out and cupped her cheek. “You are too precious for this world to lose.”

“I will be fine. I will be safe.” Noll embraced her mother one more time and then heaved herself up upon her horse.

“Wait!” Her mother presented her with a dagger, perfect and new, with a simple ironbark handle. “I made it this morning. I crafted it well, but not valuable looking enough for some shem to kill you for it.”

“I will treasure it,” Noll tucked it away into her coat, hidden. “And use it well, if need be.” She paused. “I love you, mother.”

“I love you too, da’len.” Her mother smiled. “Now be safe.”

The rest of the clan barely looked at her as she left, and the ones who did only cast eyes upon her to whisper. This was something she was used to, and one of the reasons she chose to go.

She loved her clan, but they had all known each other their entire lives. They often pried into business that was not theirs to know and gossiped endlessly to fill their own boredom. It suffocated her and leaving gave her a chance to breathe.

She crossed the border of the camp, a few hunters stood at the line to let her through, and she kicked her horse into a faster pace. She chanced a glance back and saw the aravels through the trees. The journey there would be long, and the journey back was one she may not make.

She contemplated not returning. Everything that had happened… it was too hard on her to stay now. She would go to the conclave, find information that was needed, and send a raven to her clan. After that, she would find another place to stay. Perhaps a village that was accepting of elven mages. Perhaps she would simply live on her own in the woods.

Leaving her mother would be the hardest part.  She knew her mother would always worry about what happened to her, but her place was with the clan and- maybe she was being selfish. Maybe she should stay, at least until her mother passed, but the thought gnawed at her. Either way, she had a job to do.

The journey would not be easy. She would need to ride to Ostwick and get passage to Amaranthine. The clan had enough coin to spare to pay for her trip there. She would need to collect skins to sell to pay for her way back if she changed her mind, however.

Bel had no stomach for sailing. It was one of the things that made her a stronger candidate for the trip. The sea fascinated her. The smell of the salted air, the mix of the sun and the stinging wind, she enjoyed these things. It was not often a Dalish got to sail.

The first day was easy. She had a bow, and a quiver full of arrows, and she shot a rabbit for her supper. The second day was the same, only with more riding. The third day was harder because it rained. It took her near two week and a half to reach Ostwick, and she was lucky enough to get attacked by a few bandits right outside the city.

She wasn’t good enough with the bow to fend them off right there, so she pulled her staff from the horse’s side and lit them on fire. Forgetting that shems feared magic, she walked into town with the staff on her back.

She was asked about it, of course, when she found her ship. She came up with a quick lie.

Noll told the man standing at the dock, “I’m sure you’ve heard how Dalish clans can’t have too many mages.”

He shifted from one foot to another nervously. “Yeah.”

She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers. “This one is one mage too many. I’m being sent to another clan in Ferelden.”

“Surely you’ve heard what’s happening in Ferelden…” He replied.

She feigned a blank look, and lied. “No?”

“The Mage-Templar War.” He said it as if she were an idiot. “Apparently they have having peace talks in at a conclave soon, but a mage travelling by herself is dangerous.”

“I cannot go back.” She shook her head. “I have no choice. I must go.” She picked the coins out of her pouch and offered them to him. “For passage, ser.”

He grimaced and took half. “Keep the rest. You may need them, my lady.”

Her eyebrows shot up at the unexpected kindness and she thanked him before boarding the ship.

It was more crowded than she expected it to be. There were many circle mages who were there for passage, and a particularly fussy noble with a sour attitude.

Noll squeezed herself into a corner and slept comfortably for quite some time. The talking and occasional shouting did not bother her. Similar things could be heard while sleeping in the clan. Silence would bother her more.

When she could not sleep anymore and her arm had gone numb from resting it between the wall and her head, she took out a piece of wood and a knife to carve like her mother taught her to long ago.

Livra was the craftsman for clan Lavellan. She crafted weapons, armor, tools, and toys, anything that was needed. She built new aravels and repaired broken ones. Noll had been her mother’s apprentice very briefly, but when the Keeper extended the position of First to her, it was not only pride that kept her from declining. Everyone would’ve thought her a fool who did not love her people if she had stayed a craftsman instead.

Still, she retained some of her skill. She curved the blade of the knife up, finishing the carving and kicked the shavings to the side with her foot. A cat. The clan had one, which turned into a few. They kept vermin out of the camps and were good company. Bel had often joked that they would keep the Dread Wolf away better than wards and statues.

Her heart clenched a bit when she thought of Bel and she pushed it away.

She spied a young mage girl, no more than ten, sitting with the circle group. She was a slight thing, probably from some alienage, with orange hair that curled like clouds. Noll scooted closer to her.

“For you, da’len.” She offered the cat. The girl’s delight was palpable and made her heart lift.

“Does she have a name?” The girl whispered, having decided the cat must be female already.

“Why don’t you decide on a name for her?”

The girl glanced at Noll’s vallaslin. “You probably know an elven name, though.”

Noll smiled and tried to think of one easy enough for a child to pronounce. “How about Nehn?”

“Nehn.” The girl clutched the cat and smiled. “It sounds like a purr, or a little meow. I like it. What does it mean?”

“Joy.”

The girl pressed a kiss to the cat’s head and suddenly Noll wondered if the girl had anything in the whole world that belonged to her alone. Did children in the circles even have toys to play with? She knew they barely had parents of their own, and they were cruelly ripped from their homes as soon as their magic developed. She wondered how long ago the girl had been taken away. It could’ve been only months ago.

Part of Noll wanted to take the girl and bring her back to the clan. There, at least, she would be loved. There would be no looming threats of Templars and tranquility. Her clan had many mages that could teach her. In fact, Deshanna hoarded them greedily, letting other clans go without, although Noll would never say that aloud. Another mage child could be risky, it would increase the danger of being found out. She wondered how Deshanna would manipulate the chances in her favor.

A man came down the stairs and spoke to the lower noble loud enough for everyone else to hear that the boat would be docking soon.

Noll stood to stretch and helped the girl up too. The girl cleverly tucked the carving into her robes. The girl grabbed her hand tight and held on.

“Can I go with you?” She whispered, and Noll’s heart clenched so hard it hurt.

She knelt down so that she was face to face with the girl. “I wish you could, da’len, truly, but I am going somewhere that would not be safe for you.”

“I can be quiet.” The girl promised. “I can hide.”

“I’m sure you can.” Noll gripped her small hand in her own. “Do you know where you are going?”

“Somewhere safe, I think.” The girl said. “A new circle.”

“Perhaps…” She wanted to hope. “Perhaps you will stay in Amaranthine long enough for us to cross paths again. Or perhaps we will cross paths on my way back. You are with a large group. You will not move as fast as I.”

She might be young but the girl was no fool. Noll could see in her eyes that they were both relying on chance. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for the girl to be her daughter…

“If we see each other again, I can go with you?” The girl was searching her face for lies, for any deception. What had life in the circle done to her?

“I promise.” Noll said. “I swear on Nehn.”

A smile lit the girl’s face. “On Nehn.” 

* * *

 

The journey out of Amaranthine was grueling. The horse had gotten passage as well, and fared well on the sea, but Noll was unused to Ferelden weather and knew the ride ahead of her would be long. Body weak with hunger, she found a river and managed to trap a fish with only her wits and a spare shirt tied at the openings. She used a spell to cook the fish from the inside out and ate as quickly as she could, and then curled in a patch of grass with a blanket wrapped around her.

The next few weeks passed mostly the same. She rode, hunted or fished, and rested. A few times she was nearly attacked by wolves or a bear. One time she stumbled upon an angry sylvan and nearly woke the entire forest with her screams.

It felt lazy, but there was no true job to do until she arrived at her destination. Once she did, however…

It was hard to scout the area first, not when the temple was at the top of a steep mountain and she was at the bottom.

So she hid in the forest and changed into more practical clothes, travelling clothes. A comfortable dress, one that a normal elf girl might wear at home, warm footwraps, and a cloak.

She was going for a look that said she was simply curious. Perhaps a Dalish that had been turned away, or turned towards the light of Andraste, one of those preposterous shem rumors. She left her staff with the horse in the woods. Hopefully she wouldn’t need it. She shouldn’t need it if everything went well.

She climbed the stairs to the temple like it was a pilgrimage and even thought to bow before the doors, which had two giant statues of the shem prophetess at each side.

There were thousands of people at the conclave, filtering in and out of the building like termites in a mound. She even saw the faces of a few tranquil and had to turn away, horrified at the cruelty that had been inflicted on them.

In short order she’d found the main hall of the debate. The mages and the Templars sat on opposites sides, screaming at each other, while the Divine sat on a dias above trying to keep the peace. It seemed like their talks were only going in circles, and from the look on the Divine’s face, she knew it.

Noll went back outside again for a moment. The inside of the temple was stifling, filled to the brim with people and stinking of sweat. The cold, crisp mountain air refreshed her and cleared her mind.

It wasn’t enough to simply say that the peace talks were getting nowhere. She probably could’ve inferred that before she climbed the mountain. Perhaps she could sneak a bit further into the temple and find more information. A few letters, perhaps? Or eavesdrop on a conversation?

She stepped back inside of the temple, thankful that her bare feet were silent on the stone as she turned corners here and there.

She found a few letters but they told no information she did not already know. The only conversation she was able to eavesdrop on was kitchen staff gossip. She turned a corner but there was a door at the other end of the hallway, one that she would normally overlook, that beckoned to her.

She heard voices behind it, and her curiosity piqued. Perhaps this conversation was worth eavesdropping on.

She snuck closer and pressed her ear to the door.

“Someone! Please help me!”

Her heart leapt and she pried the door open, and was met with something she never expected to see in all of her life.

A monster held the Divine herself in the air by magic, surrounded by grey wardens, and in his hand was some kind of magic orb.

The Divine’s lovely face twisted and she smacked the orb out of his hand, towards Noll. _She wants me to take it,_ Noll thought, and so she did.

The magic ripped through her hand and up her arm, tearing and aching. She tried to drop it but she found she could not. It had attached itself to her skin.

The monster roared and leaped in the air as if to land on top of her, and in her fear she redirected the magic that was tearing through her toward him, but she missed. Instead the magic tore through the air and through the sky, the pure power of it flinging her through the rip and the orb out of her hand.

She was lying on rocks, aching, when her awareness returned. That magic had not stopped tearing yet, but it wasn’t tearing quite so hard anymore. It was dark, and her eyes could not catch any light to see at all like they normally could at night. Suddenly, she was terrified.

But then she turned and saw something at the top of a hill, a light? No- a woman holding a light?

She heard something behind her and rushed forward, but the higher she climbed the steeper the hill became. She was huffing with the effort, her feet sliding, and the woman- The Divine- reached down and grasped her hand.

“Hurry, we must go through.” The Divine was pushing her towards a glowing rip in the face, but something snatched at her from behind.

Noll glanced back and saw something had caught the woman and was pulling her down the hill, into the darkness. She tried to pull the woman back up but whatever had her was stronger.

“Go!” The Divine screamed, as whatever monster had her snatched her from Noll’s fingers. She hesitated, only for a moment, before running through the rip.

It was not an easy transition. It was like falling very far into a large body of water, getting submerged very deep, and then getting shaken up. Her legs wobbled the moment they hit solid ground. Real ground, not the fade. She fell over, face first, smacking her jaw painfully against the stone and splitting her eyebrow.

She barely heard the soldiers approach her. Everything was spinning. It was too slow. She closed her eyes and heard laughter. Too many eyes… Too many eyes…


	2. Chapter 2

Their caution in him was not misplaced, although he could not let them know that. Solas knew they were panicked by the events that had taken place, and looking for a culprit in anyone they deemed even slightly suspicious. The Seeker seemed distrustful of apostates, so he was automatically under suspicion.

Somehow his willingness to cooperate and helpfulness made him more suspicious. Likely this was Leliana’s shrewdness coming into play. She was no fool.

He answered their questions with mostly the truth, important details left out, some little details changed. No, he was not Dalish. No, he was no city elf either. He mentions the village he was born and raised in, only lying in part about that. He has never been to a Circle. His magic is self-taught.

His knowledge, however, his information about the rifts is not something that they can afford to deny.

And then he hears something new. There is a survivor, a prisoner, who apparently wields kind of strange magic and stepped out of a rift after the explosion. This piques his interest very much, and he requests to see them.

The Seeker and Leliana argue about it for several minutes before deciding to grant him supervised access.

He is lead into a chantry, and then down, down into a darkened dungeon. It stinks of mold, wet hay, and rust. The survivor is in a cell on the floor. He can see clearly that she is a young Dalish woman.

He is then informed by the guard who accompanied him that the woman has been unconscious since she stepped out of the rift days ago, has shown no signs of waking, and has been actively dying ever since.

Solas had no love for the Dalish but to see an elf treated so poorly sat bitter on his tongue. More than likely the people of Haven decided immediately upon her guilt because of the slant of her ears and the magic she apparently embodied. He wondered if she had been some human, untouched by magic, if they would’ve treated her this way.

He was allowed to enter the cell and attempted to position her more comfortably. It seems that when she was placed within the cell, whoever put her there had simply dropped her in and left. The cell was also extremely small, barely fitting the two of them inside together.

She had injuries on her face, although he could not tell if she was injured further at present. He assumed that she would be, considering what she survived.

He found the magic spoken of quickly and recognized it. The Anchor, it was branded on her palm. He could see the familiar curves of the lines of his orb there, familiar as his own fingerprints. Those lines were now branded into her flesh with a magic so old it would take ages to count it. It crackled wildly and intensely, being so close to the Breach.

She would likely die, then.

He sat back, his mouth forming a thin line. The Anchor was the only way to close the Breach but she was a mortal, perhaps not even a mage herself, and she was not _him_. She could not wield such a thing and survive.

“Can I examine her for injuries?” Solas asked the man guarding them.

“Huh? Oh… Er, we already have a healer.” The guard said after removing his finger from picking his teeth. “He’s been at it.”

 _Obviously not well enough considering the injuries to her face,_ Solas wanted to say, but he didn’t.

 _Pitiful thing._ He brushed her dark hair, filthy and wet with sweat, from her face. He healed where her skin split at her eyebrow, and found that her jaw was broken. Normally healing such a thing would be incredibly painful, but she was already unconscious. He was able to shift it into the proper place and heal it well without worrying about her flinching.

He could see June’s vallaslin, a deep dark violet, branded hatefully into her skin. _Poor little fool._ Her people knew nothing and had nothing. She was surrounded by humans who wanted to kill her, but the Anchor would likely do it first. The only person who had any chance of helping her survive this, even for a time, was him. If she were conscious and knew who he was, that would probably be the worst news of all.

Still, she was dying. He did not know if she was strong enough to endure the magic long enough to close the Breach herself, and that would rely on her waking up, but she showed no signs of waking. She made no noises or moved at all. She would seem a corpse if not the color in her skin and the movement of her breathing.

He could attempt to close the rifts himself, but he did not know if he were capable without his full power. It would be more efficient for her to do it, she had the Anchor.

He wondered if he slept, if he would find her in the Fade. He had heard that she had stepped out of a rift, which meant that she had walked through the Fade with her physical body. This was impossible, unheard of, except only one other occasion in human history. It also meant the effects on her were unpredictable. Her consciousness could’ve easily lingered in the Fade, or detached itself somehow from her being.

Still, if she were in the land of dreams, it would be simple enough for him to find her.

He stood. “I have gathered some information from her… mark. I would like to share this information with Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale.”

After Solas exited the cell, the guard carefully locked it once more. As if the unconscious woman inside, wounded and dying, would try to escape.

When he was once again in the company of the former right and left hands of the Divine, he explained in the best way he could.

“The mark on her hand is strange. I’ve seen nothing like it before.” He told them. “I believe it is connected to the rifts, and ultimately the Breach. As the Breach spreads and grows, so does the mark.”

“Could she have opened the Breach?” Cassandra asked.

“I…” Solas tilted his head. In truth, the answer was not as complicated as a yes or a no. The power of the mark opened the Breach, he knew that it must have, but he doubted that she willingly commanded it to. Still, he knew this truth would likely earn the Dalish woman yet another hateful brand on her face, so he did not say so. “I cannot say for sure. I only know that the magic is connected. I doubt she was born with the mark upon her hand, something or someone must have put it there… Perhaps whatever that was could’ve created the Breach.”

“We searched her person and found nothing magical or enchanted.” Leliana stood. “My agents even stumbled upon a horse in the forest at the base of the mountain, outside of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. We believe it was hers. The items there only led us to believe that she was an agent herself, although we know not for who.”

“The Dalish, obviously.” Said Cassandra.

“You think that because of her tattoos,” Leliana’s mouth quirked, “but more often than not, appearances are deceiving. She could be working for anyone.”

The truth of this was not something that Solas could deny. Still, he knew that it was very rare for a Dalish to abandon their own people, or for a Dalish to be abandoned by their people.

If she were a Dalish spy, why would her people send her to the Conclave? The Dalish have little interest in human affairs, or any affairs besides their own. Solas decided that she must be from a nearby clan, worried for their immediate safety.

“Perhaps we will never know what her story is.” Solas said. “She is dying, as I’m sure you are aware. It is the mark, it is killing her, consuming her. I think if we seal the Breach, her mark would stabilize.”

“You have an idea?” Leliana asked.

“I know much of the Fade and the veil, as I told you before.” He told her. “I could attempt a few tests, to see if they will wake her. I could also test some of the rifts to see if perhaps a mage with my knowledge of the veil could attempt to seal one.”

“What makes you think that _you_ are capable?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, accusing.

“Because the only other person capable is near death and unresponsive!” He sighed, running his hand over his head. “She could close the rifts as well as the Breach, I am almost sure of it, but seeing with absolute certainty would require her waking. The rifts _might_ be sealed by ordinary magic if one can only figure out how. I am not certain. However, I am more certain that her _unordinary_ magic would suffice to seal the rifts as well as the Breach.”

“What do you need, then, for your tests?” Cassandra stood, hands on her hips, impatient. Solas understood. The Breach was growing every minute and she wanted a solution.

“All I need for now is greater access to your prisoner.” He told her. “The cell she is in now is too small for me to work in.” He quickly added. “I would also like to access her wounds and see if I can heal them. Perhaps it is a physical trauma that keeps her from waking.”

“We have a healer.” Cassandra told him. “But he does not use magic to heal. He has been treating her with potions and poultices.”

Leliana crossed her arms. “Perhaps magic will fare better.”

“Alright. You have our permission.” For a moment, the Seeker was almost friendly, but then she stepped forward, shoving a gauntleted finger in his face. “But do not think for one moment that we will not have you monitored. She is our prisoner and we will question her when she awakes. If your _tests_ include blood magic or something hazardous that causes her death-“

“I assure you-“ Solas tried to interrupt but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“I do not care for your assurances. I care about results.” She turned away. “Go, then.”

His second trip to the dungeons was unescorted, although he was sure someone was watching. The guards had already done as he had requested, he realized bitterly. They had removed her from her cell, dragging her out to the middle of the floor by her leg by the looks of it, and shackled her hands and feet together, and a chain was attaching the shackles on her wrists to one of the nearby posts. Like a chained dog, even though she had not moved or done anything more violently than breathe in days.

The Fade, that would be his first attempt. If he could not find her then perhaps he could find a spirit who knew something that could help him. He pulled his pack off of his back and set it on the ground, laying parallel to her and using it as a pillow. He had gone into the Fade so many times that it only took him a moment of relaxing to fall asleep.

When he found himself in the Fade, it was surprisingly… empty. She was not there, as he expected her not to be, for things are rarely so easy. However, no spirits were nearby either. The Breach burned just as bright in the Fade as it did outside of it. He suspected that they were either consumed by it, or they had been frightened away in order to avoid being consumed by it.

He would have no help then. He expected that if the woman was somewhere in the Fade, it was likely closer to where she originally stepped out of the rift, which was closer to the Breach.

The illusion of snow cracked under his feet as he began forward, although he knew better than to allow himself to be chilled. The walk to the Fade’s version of the Temple, at least the one that had formed in the memories there, was steep but he did not tire.

In the Fade, the Temple of Sacred Ashes still burned. There were no corpses, just flame and ash. The spirits that may have flocked here to see the memories were no longer there. It was a very eerie feeling, to be in the Fade alone.

Something shifted in his mind, and his skin crawled. Not entirely alone, then.

“Show yourself.” He called out. A moment passed, and then another. “What do you gain by hiding when I am already aware of your presence?”

A darkness passed over. It was still hiding, in its own way.

“You seek her.” The darkness said. “Her brightness called, her fear called, but you will not find her. Without her, the world will slowly turn to ash and blight.”

“You are a fear demon, then.” It took form then, and it was.

“I saw her, shining like a beacon when she passed to this realm.” Its teeth clacked together as it recalled. “She was afraid. She was so afraid. She could not run fast enough. I…” It reached out its hand, and then gripped tightly with its claws, “snatched her as she fled.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You stole her consciousness?”

The demon nodded. “She sleeps, dreaming only in nightmares.”

Solas considered for a moment. He did not know such a thing was possible, but if one enters the Fade physically and encounters a demon powerful enough… it must be. This was exceedingly dangerous. He could attempt to banish the demon from this part of the Fade, but he did not know whether that would free the woman’s consciousness or not. Killing the demon would also prove difficult, and would not guarantee results.

If he banished the demon and it did not work, it would likely return to keep feeding on the fear of the people surrounding the Breach. This could afford him a second chance, should the first attempt fail.

He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I need her for my own plans.”

The demon hissed, curling into itself. “She is mine. Even if you take her from me, I will regain her later. I am more powerful than you know.”

“I doubt it.” Solas said, and the demon was blasted back in a large plume of smoke.

Then he awoke to screaming. The prisoner was thrashing on the floor, clenching her fist as the mark flared so bright it lit up the entire dungeon.

Guards were in the room before he managed to stand, swords drawn and ready. “What is she doing? What in the Maker’s name is she doing?”

Solas ignored them and went to the woman’s side. “Calm down!” He told her. “You are safe!”

She kept moving, sweat forming over her brow. Her eyes opened only for a brief moment and did not seem to focus on him. “Creators, it hurts!” She cried, before she went limp again.

“Well,” Solas sat back on his haunches. “She is certainly Dalish.”

“What was that?” One of the guards demanded, still brandishing his sword.

“She awoke, very briefly, for the first time since she exited the rift.” Solas explained. “Her mark likely reacted to her… well, being awake.”

Suddenly Cassandra was at the door. “What is this?” She commanded. “I heard there was something going on. Is she awake? What is going on?”

“One of my tests, Seeker Pentaghast.” Solas stood to greet her. “Your prisoner regained her consciousness.”

Cassandra casted a doubtful look at the woman on the floor.

“Well, she regained her consciousness briefly.” He shifted on his feet. “I believe it was great progress towards her recovery.”

“I see no progress.” Cassandra shook her head. “She is still unconscious. Her mark is still unstable. Rifts are still everywhere. The Breach is still in the sky. I told you, apostate. I expect results. If you continue to test my patience, you will be in no better of a situation than she is.”

Solas frowned. “I see.” His voice was tight. “I will attempt some more tests, hopefully these will be less disruptive.”

“See that they are.” The Seeker turned and left, the guards following behind her.

Solas took the shackled hand of the unknown Dalish woman and examined the mark again. He would have to slow the spreading, or it would consume her. He wondered how much time he had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to change a lot of the dialogue, by the way. (especially after this chapter) the things that happen, maybe not so much.

Four days passed, and the woman suffered.

She woke sometimes, briefly, murmuring words he could not understand because she spoke so low. What little he could understand, he could not make sense of. Some words were Elvhen, others were spoken in the common language. A name appeared on her lips only a few times, and he wondered if this person had accompanied her to the Conclave and had been lost. Sometimes she even called out for her mother, and he would feel his heart clench in his chest.

He could not tell how old she was. He was no good at such things in this world. She was not a child, no teenager, he guessed. She was not elderly either. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, no white or grey strands among them. Her face was not withered and wrinkled. Her vallaslin obscured her features to him, but he would tell that she was freckled all across her face.

He took her hand and stared into the mark. For all that it was attached to her, it was still his magic. He maintained a level of control over it, and each time it crackled and flared he settled it. He had taken her consciousness back from the nightmare, he had kept the mark from killing her, and she still had not awoken.

After he had found her in the fade, he convinced Cassandra and Leliana to let him examine a rift. He did examine it, truly, but it only took him minutes to learn its exact nature. It was a tear in the veil, the same as if one had pressed down too hard writing on parchment and their quill went through. Mending it, however, that was the difficult part.

He went back to the rift in secret, after, and tested it with his own magic. He pushed and pulled at the veil, attempting to stitch it back together like one would stitch broken flesh, but his mendings would break and the rift would remain.

Only the Anchor could seal them, as well as the Breach, and that power lay with an unconscious woman with questionable loyalty. If he had the orb, he could simply kill her and reclaim the mark, but he did not know where the orb was.

He had asked after it cautiously, saying that perhaps some item of magic or enchantment that created the mark on the prisoner’s had yet remained at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Leliana had told him that she suspected the same and already had her agents scour every inch of the now ruined temple, and they had found nothing.

Even if they had, Solas imagined that getting them to simply hand him such a powerful artifact would not be simple. They did not trust him, Leliana and Cassandra least of all.

He looked into the Dalish woman’s face. If she did not wake soon… He would have to flee. Perhaps he could gather what little forces he had among his agents and reclaim his orb from Corypheus. Many of his agents would die, more of the People killed because of his own foolishness, but he would have little choice.

Likely, the woman would be dead by the time he managed to reclaim the orb. Then it would be the matter of branding the Anchor upon himself and following out with his own plans. If she was not… Perhaps it would be a mercy to kill her. Even if it wasn’t, it would be necessary.

She was a warped mirror. She was elven, but not as she should be. None of them were.

The life of one woman, small and sickly, for the lives of his people? For their future? No one could fault him for taking that. What was one more death upon the countless he had already caused?

“So that’s what you do down here?” Varric’s voice startled him out of his own thoughts. The dwarf was leaning against the doorway, bottle of some liquor in his hand. “I thought I’d finally come take a look at this scary prisoner everyone talks about.”

He stepped over, grabbing a stool the guards usually used and sat across from him, on the other side of her. “She doesn’t look like I expected.” He took a drink from the bottle.

“What did you expect her to look like, Varric?” Solas tucked her hand back against her side and leaned back against the column behind him.

“A spooky blood mage, for one.” Varric smiled. “That’s the word around town. She opened the Breach with some kind of elfy blood magic.”

“Ridiculous.” Solas grimaced. “Even so, I doubt she is a blood mage. She does not have any scars or wounds indicating such things. It’s possible she’s not even a mage at all.”

Varric laughed and took another sip from whatever it was he was drinking. “I’m sure she’ll be a mage. That’s always how this shit turns out.”

“You think because one apostate blew up a chantry, that every time a holy building explodes, it must be the fault of a mage?”

“No,” He shook his head. “I think she’ll be a mage because,” He reached over and took her hand, flopping it about to emphasize the glowing mark, “weird magic. Also because, well, most Dalish mages I know can’t stay out of trouble for five whole minutes.”

“You’ve known many Dalish mages then?”

“Oh, one or two.”

“And what sort of trouble-“ A loud groan cut him off and both of them looked down, startled.

The prisoner’s eyes opened, blinking, and then closed again. “Gods,” She rasped. “What has happened to me? What has happened…”

“Holy shit.” Varric said under his breath. “You know we have to tell someone she’s waking up, right?”

“Of course.” Solas looked around, momentarily overwhelmed. “Could you- If you could inform either Cassandra or Leliana-“

Varric laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’d be happy to deliver some good news for once.”

Solas looked her over once again when Varric left. She was truly waking up, he realized, relief washing over him. She did not seem aware of her surroundings yet, but she would cough and wheeze out exclamations of pain. She drank when he held water to her lips, but immediately slipped back into a sleep after.

Then Cassandra was there. “She’s awakening?”

“Yes.” Solas said, standing and brushing off his clothes. “She spoke, although I do not think she heard me when I spoke back. I gave her water, and she drank it.”

The Seeker stared down at the woman, her gaze intense, and then turned to the guards who came in behind her. “Now that she is awake, she will likely try to flee. She needs to be better secured.”

“Back in the cell, then?” A guard asked.

“No.” Cassandra looked down at her again. “Leliana and I will interrogate her.” She looked up at Solas. “We have need for you elsewhere.”

“I would like to be here when she fully awakes, so that I can assess-“

“Leliana and I will interrogate her.” Cassandra repeated. “If we have need for you here, we will send someone to bring you back.”

Solas fought back the urge to argue. “What is it that I am needed for?”

“The rift from the other day has expanded, and waves of demons are coming forth constantly.” She shook her head. “Something needs to be done, anything. We have already sent soldiers, but we are sending you and Varric as well. I will meet you there when I am finished here.”

“And what do you expect us to do?” He asked. “Continuously fight demons and hope they simply stop coming? Or the rift closes itself?”

“I suspect you will come up with something. Either that, or I will.”

The plan was foolish, but Solas could not say no.

Solas left the chantry and found the dwelling that they had given him the night he had first arrived. It was a small house, settled on the side on the corner of the village near to the apothecary. Solas did not keep many things, but he kept his heavier clothes and his staff there during the day. He found them there and slipped his bag across his back.

Varric was waiting outside near the gate, Bianca strapped across his back. He lifted his hand in greeting when Solas approached. “Ready to fight some demons?”

“We will likely be fighting them indefinitely, unless Cassandra comes up with a plan.” They began down the path, towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Well, the ‘hole in the sky with monsters coming out’ business is holding her feet to the fire.” Varric said.

“I imagine it is.”

The path towards the ruins was worn, but long and tiresome for many. It had become a pilgrimage for many since its discovery ten years prior, although many argued whether the Hero of Ferelden or Gentivi should be given credit for such. Surana herself had apparently said very little on the matter, only that the temple had been overrun by a dragon cult, and it was her blade that slew them.

It was also said that the ashes of Andraste herself had once resided in the temple, although none knew what happened to them over time.

“Have you ever met the Hero of Ferelden?” Solas asked Varric.

“The Warden?” He shook his head. “Nah. Met the king once, though. He was a little weird.”

“She is truly his mistress, then.” Solas could not hide the disdain from his face. “Why his mistress and not his Queen, I wonder?”

“You already know the answer to that, Chuckles.”

“I suppose I do.”

They trod along in the snow in silence for a while, feet crunching underneath them.

“How do you not freeze your toes off?” Varric pointed at his feet. “Are elves immune to frostbite or something?”

“I imagine our skin is somewhat different, although I wouldn’t boast immunity to the elements.”

“So what, then? Some kind of spell?”

“If the ground is particularly rough, or it becomes too hot or cold to endure, then yes.”

“And what about the barefoot elves who aren’t mages? How do they protect their toes?”

Solas shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Something Chuckles doesn’t know!” Varric hooted with surprised laughter. “Seriously, though, sometimes I forget how you used to be some kind of hermit. You don’t seem like a guy who spent a decade or two in the woods by himself.”

“I wasn’t by myself.”

“Oh, yeah.” Varric nodded. “Your spirit buddies. How could I forget? Which day did you guys go for drinks again? I might join you next time.”

Solas puffed up a bit. “Joke as you will, but I’ve found the experience rewarding.”

“Honestly, I’m only half joking. From what I’ve heard about spirits, they could give me some new stories to tell. They probably have all the best gossip, too.”

Solas laughed at that. “A spirit of gossip would be unique indeed.”

Soon they approached the rift, not too far outside of the forward camp. It shuddered as if in anger, mimicking the Breach above. The soldiers around it stopped when they saw them approach.

“Thank the Maker you’ve arrived.” One of them said. “We did not know how much longer we could hold without anyone else here.”

They were covered in demon ichor, which was foul-smelling and sticky. One of the soldiers had a deep gash on the side of her face that needed healing, which Solas offered to her before the next wave of demons appeared.

Varric experimentally shot an arrow into the rift and watched it disappear. “They say the girl stepped out of a rift. I wonder what would happen if someone stepped in.”

Solas replied, “They would die, most likely.”

“So what makes that one survivor so special that she lived?” Varric frowned. “The mark on her hand, or something else?”

“You have something on your mind, Varric?”

“Another rumor floating around, less popular than the blood mage one, has gotten me thinking.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But it’s not important right now. We’ve got some demons to kill.”

Solas finished healing the soldier’s face, and she shook his hand awkwardly in thanks. Moments after, demons burst forth from the rift.

Magic was more difficult with the presence of the veil. Calling upon his magic, especially in his already weakened state without his orb, took more precise concentration and willpower than it did eons before. When we first awoke, he had practiced for some time to get used to it. It was much like trying to walk around after being suspended in water for quite some time.

He froze one of the demons, and a solider cut away at it with their sword. Varric was nearby, showing arrows down upon the enemies with impressive accuracy. The soldiers were not well trained but they made up for it in devotion to their fight, as well as fear.

They barely had time to breathe between waves of demons. The rift began pouring them out faster and faster, and Solas could only imagine what was happening on the other side. Many of the demons were likely spirits being drawn through against their will, and corrupted as they exited the Fade. Killing them, then, would be a mercy, but it did not make it any less sorrowful.

Soon enough Solas was exhausted. His arms burned with the effort of swinging his staff to perfect the spell channeling through, and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth during battle. Cassandra should arrive soon. She should.

And then, just as he thought of her, she was there. She bashed a demon out of the way with her shield and cut through it with her sword in one graceful movement. She had brought another with her, a mage, and it took him a long moment to realize that the woman with Cassandra was the prisoner. She was awake, fully awake, and here.

The last of the demons was struck down and Solas felt the depletion of mana in his bones, but even so he stepped towards the prisoner and found her marked hand. They had to close the rift now.

“Quickly, before more come through!” She was too shocked to yank back and as he held her marked hand towards the rift, he pushed it with the tiniest bit of magic he had left. The mark crackled violently, and the rift responded in kind, and they both closed.

He sighed with relief, allowing the tension in his muscles to release for a moment. When he looked over at her, she was staring at him in complete confusion and terror.

“What… did you do?

“I did nothing.” He said quickly. “The credit is yours.”

“Not mine.” She shook her head and looked down at her own marked hand. “This.”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra stood beside the woman, looking pleased. “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” He looked back at the marked woman and she blinked at him slowly, visibly discomforted by the thought.

Varric brushed demonic ichor off his sleeve, making a face when it stuck to his gloves. “Good to know. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” He then proceeded to introduce himself in a way that clearly irritated Cassandra, which Solas assumed had been his goal.

The marked woman shifted uncomfortably on her feet, clenching and unclenching the hand with the Anchor. “Are you… with the Chantry or…?”

Solas could not help the laugh that burst forward from his lips. “Is that a serious question?” She glanced back at him at his outburst and he could see very clearly that she was confused and afraid.

“Technically, I’m a prisoner, just like you.” Varric was exaggerating, and soon he and Cassandra started bickering.

Solas looked over at the prisoner. She was a mage, then. Perhaps that had somehow helped her survive the Anchor as well as physically entering the fade. The Anchor, while his magic and not a magic she could understand, was still magic.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” He said once Cassandra had tired of Varric prodding her nerves. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means that he kept that mark from killing you while you slept.” Varric added.

Her initial fear was gone. Instead she seemed only confused and tired. “You seem to know much about what’s going on.”

“Like you, Solas is an apostate.” Cassandra was unable to keep the hint of distaste out of the word.

“Technically, _all_ mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” Solas corrected her, before turning his attention back to the woman with the Anchor. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, _far_ beyond the experience of any Circle mage.” He made sure to make his own distaste known as well. “I came to offer whatever help I could give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

“And when this is over?” He understood what she meant, the suspicion that they might clap him in irons same as they had already done to her, simply for wielding magic and being nearby.

“One hopes,” he explained, his eyes darting over to Cassandra for only a moment, “those in power will remember those who helped. And those who did not.”

“Cassandra, you should know.” Solas said, turning his attention fully to the seeker. “The magic here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” Perhaps it was the first outright lie he had told so far. It was a harmless one, if so.

“Understood.” He could see the tightening of the Seeker’s brow, the intensity of her thoughts showing plainly upon her face. “We must get to the forward camp.”

They made their way down the bank and found a frozen river just as the Breach shuddered and spat out a handful of demons and angry wraiths. Solas could cast spells as easy as breathing, but as he observed the other mage in battle, he found that her magic was pitifully weak. She seemed to know only fire spells, and even then she casted them infrequently, preferring to shoot simpler fire from the end of her staff.

They had doubted her affiliations before, wondering if she were truly Dalish or a spy for someone else. He wondered if Leliana had already gotten that information out of her. She seemed very Dalish, however. Spies who were also mages would not survive long setting everything on fire.

Once the demons were slain, Solas could no longer hold back the question. “You are Dalish, but clearly away from your clan. Did they send you here?”

“They did.” She replied politely. “Do you know much of the Dalish?”

He held his tongue. Now was not the time. “I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

“We are both of the same people, Solas.”

He almost laughed. Almost. “The Dalish I met felt… differently on the subject.”

“The Dalish you-“ She stopped what she was saying and hissed in a painful breath, fisting her marked hand tight and drawing it up against her chest.

Solas could not imagine the pain of it, the magic embedded in her hand spreading further and rejecting her all at once. “My magic cannot stop your mark from growing further. For your sake, I suggest we hurry.”

In a moment of kindness, Cassandra reached out and clasped her shoulder. “I know it’s painful, but we must keep moving.”

“I understand.” She said, and they continued moving.

“So, uh… Are you innocent?” Varric asked as they made their way up a set of stairs.

“It’s odd.” The woman said. “I don’t remember what happened.”

Varric snorted. “Of course you don’t. That’ll get you every time. You should’ve spun a story.”

She shook her head. “It’s hard to think on your feet when you wake up in an unfamiliar place, chained up, with a lot of angry shems pointing swords at you.”

“Yeah well, stories are more believable… and less likely to get you executed.”

“Or more likely, if they find out you’re lying later.”

“Perhaps you should listen to her, Varric.” Cassandra said.

At the top of the hill, there were more demons. Cassandra leapt forward, slashing at them with her sword, and the woman threw fireballs from a safe distance.

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.” Cassandra said after, rotating her sword arm a bit as they continued on their way.

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric sighed.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp.” Solas said. “We are nearly there.”

They made their way up another hill, Cassandra charging forward in her determination.

“There is another rift!” She shouted down.

“Then we must seal it quickly!” Solas glanced up at the woman with the Anchor but she was already moving ahead of him.

One of the soldiers was shouting. “They won’t stop coming! Help us!”

Solas aimed a spell at the demon that Cassandra was fighting while the woman managed to arc chain lightening off of the wraiths, destroying them both. It was the first spell he’d seen her cast that wasn’t based around fire.

The demons were defeated sooner than he thought, and before he could help the woman close the rift, she lifted her hand towards it, the mark flaring in response, and did it herself.

Cassandra went to check on the well-being of the soldiers and Solas stepped up beside the woman. She was looking down at the Anchor, experimentally touching her own palm.

“We are clear for the moment.” After a beat, he added. “Well done.”

As soon as they were ushered through the gates, he could hear Leliana and the Chancellor arguing. He had seen the man very little in Haven, but the few times he did, the man was loud enough to leave an impression.

“Ah, here they come.” Roderick said as they approached, as if they were a pack of wild dogs.

Leliana smiled at Cassandra as they approached. “You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-“

“I know who she is.” He snapped, glaring pointedly at the marked woman. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Rouyeax to face execution.”

He would execute the only person capable of immediately closing the Breach? Solas could not see Cassandra standing by and allowing this, and when he turned to the Seeker, he knew he was right by the twisted scowl on her face.

“Order _me_?” She stepped forward, every inch of an authority. “You are a glorified clerk! A Bureaucrat!”

Roderick, the fool that he was, did not back down. “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“ _We_ serve the Most Holy, Chancellor.” Leliana cut in. “As you well know.”

“Justinia is dead!” The Chancellor threw his arms up in exasperation. “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter.”

“And allow the Breach to swallow the world while you bicker about who should lead you next?” Everyone turned as the prisoner spoke. Her eyes widened at the sudden attention, but she continued. “This issue is larger than your Chantry. The Breach threatens all of Thedas, and the longer we wait to fix it, the more of a danger this becomes.”

In the company of the Right and Left Hands of the Divine as well as the High Chancellor, it was their prisoner who managed to speak the most sense at the moment.

However, Chancellor Roderick would not have it. “You brought this on us in the first place!” Cassandra stepped in front of the woman and towards Roderick.

“Call a retreat, Seeker. This is hopeless.”

“No, we can still stop this before it’s too late.”

Chancellor Roderick sighed, suddenly defeated. “How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple. It’s the quickest route.”

Leliana interrupted. “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky.”

“Listen to me,” Roderick pleaded Cassandra. “Abandon this now before more lives are lost.”

“More lives will be lost if we don’t try.” The prisoner said.

Suddenly, the Breach shuddered overhead, expanding visibly. The mark on the woman’s palm hissed violently, the magic crackling so intensely that her arm trembled. One thing was certain, if the Breach was not closed soon, she would die. Then, perhaps, there would be no means of closing it.

Cassandra stepped in front of the woman, towering over her. “How do _you_ think we should proceed?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re asking _me_ to choose?”

“You have the mark.” Solas said.

“And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra added. “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

“Then…” She glanced up at the mountain, shifting from foot to foot. “Use the mountain path. Work together. You all know what’s at stake.”

Cassandra nodded and gestured for them to move forward. “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” The Chancellor hissed as they passed. Solas looked ahead at Cassandra, but it was as if she had not heard him.

The mountain path was steep, and the fighting had left them weary. Climbing up in the snow was easier on bare feet, and the prisoner was able to stay ahead of most of them. Solas leaned heavily upon his staff as he climbed, and Varric stayed behind with him as a politeness.

“I don’t want to keep calling you ‘the prisoner’ because then people might get mixed up.” Varric told her. “I’m Varric Tethras,” he paused, “and I already told you that.”

She smiled. “I am Noll… Lavellan, I suppose.”

“That your clan’s name?” Varric stepped up beside her.

Her smile dropped. “It is.” She replied cautiously.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not in the business of hurting your people. I just wanted to see if it was a clan I knew.”

“You know Dalish clans?” She sounded shocked.

“Only one, really.”

“Oh, well…” She was fidgeting with her own fingers. “I’m sorry if I sound rude, but you’re the first dwarf I’ve ever seen. The dwarves usually ignore us.”

“Oh, yeah. They do.” He said. “But I’m a surfacer dwarf, so I’m a little different. Besides, I’ve got a Dalish friend. Or, she used to be Dalish. Well, I mean, she still is, but she’s not with her clan anymore. It’s all this convoluted bullshit.”

“She’s not with her clan anymore?” She asked. “Where did she go?”

“An alienage.”

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed by that answer.

They arrived at their destination and found a series of ladders awaiting them.

“The tunnels should be just up ahead.” Cassandra shouted up to Lavellan as they climbed. “The path to the Temple lies just beyond it.”

“What manner of tunnel is this?” Solas asked. “A mine?”

“Part of an old mining complex.” Cassandra replied. “These mountains are full of such paths.”

Varric was panting from all the climbing. “And your missing soldiers, they are in there somewhere?”

Solas responded, “Along with whatever has detained them.”

The tunnel, as it turns out, was filled with demons. Solas was hardly surprised. Cassandra told him of the mission earlier, he expected fighting, but not the sheer amount of it that they’d done. If he knew, he might have done some stretches first. Now his shoulders were sore, and he was irritated and tired. The Veil was pressing consistently at his energy like a headache that would not go away. He regretted the foolish decisions of his youth.

When they exited the tunnel, the ground was littered with corpses. Varric sighed, disappointed at more death. “Guess we found the soldiers.”

“That cannot be all of them.” Cassandra said.

Varric seemed hopeful at that. “So the others could be holed up ahead?”

“Our priority must be the Breach,” Solas reminded them. “Unless we seal it soon, _no one_ is safe.”

Varric gestured toward Lavellan. “I’m leaving that to our Dalish friend here.”

And the rest of the soldiers were ahead, although they had been unlucky enough to have a rift open right in front of them. They slew the demons but more began oozing out slowly as soon as they had done so.

“You’re alive!” Cassandra shouted to the lieutenant.

“Just barely.” The woman was covered in blood and ichor, and looked as if she might drop any moment.

Only two demons managed to pour out of the rift, and together they were able to defeat them quickly. Then the Dalish woman lifted her hand and sealed the rift once more, simpler than the spells she casted during battle.

“You sealed it, as before.” Solas noted. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric deadpanned behind him.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra.” The lieutenant said. “I don’t think we could’ve held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoner, lieutenant.” Cassandra gestured to the woman, and Solas was surprised that Cassandra would give her credit. “She insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner!” The lieutenant was surprised. “Then you…?”

“It was worth saving you, if we could.” Lavellan told her.

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.”

Cassandra gestured toward the way that they had come. “The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can.”

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.” Solas told Cassandra, although he fixed his gaze on the Dalish woman’s face.

She betrayed little except confusion and, on occasion, fear. Still, he was almost certain she was concealing her magic. He had watched her in their battles, and she called on only her fireball spell normally, but she would slip up and cast something different when she was frustrated or a demon came too close to her. The question was why.

He was concealing his magic as well, although his reasoning could not be the same as hers. Perhaps she thought that appearing weaker than she was would make her seem like less of a suspect for the Breach. After all, certainly a weak mage could not create something so destructive and powerful. If that as her plan, it was a clever one.

“Let’s hurry, before that changes.” Cassandra said.

“So, holes in the fade don’t just _accidentally_ happen, right?” Varric asked him as they made their way down.

Solas stepped off the ladder. “If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible.”

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

“That is true.”

“We can consider how this has happened once the immediate danger has passed.” Cassandra said.

Soon, they entered the Temple itself. The explosion had been massive. The temple and most of the area surrounding had been obliterated. All that were left were tiny pieces of ruins, just enough left to tell it had been part of the Chantry once. Gigantic spikes of stone protruded from the ground, glowing with the leftovers of the magic of the orb. The explosion had likely melted the stone from the chantry, splashing it upwards, and then it solidified again in the fashion that it had, embedded with the magic that had made it that way.

The site was also filled with corpses, most of which were still on fire. This seemed to give the Dalish woman pause.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas said. He had never seen it in its full glory, only from a distance.

“What’s left of it.” Varric added.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” Cassandra pointed to the spot. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

This was the first Solas had heard of that, but he had tried to avoid the rumors in Haven. Likely it had just been a trick of the light, or perhaps a spirit who was strong enough to keep itself from being pulled through.

Cassandra and Varric went ahead. The woman walked forward slowly, obviously stunned by the sheer amount of destruction around her, destruction that she had miraculously survived. Something clattered at her feet, then, and she bent to pick it up when she gasped.

“Is something wrong?” Solas asked.

She held a rock in her hand, clenching her fist tight around it, and then she stood and showed it to him. “Please, tell me what this looks like.”

“A stone?” He took it in his own hands then, turning it over. No, it was some kind of carving. The heat has petrified it into stone, but it had likely not been stone at first. “It looks like a fox, or perhaps a cat.”

He went to hand it back and the look on her face stunned him. Despair. She noticed him looking and quickly wiped the expression away, and then plucked the item from his fingers and shoved it into her pocket.

He went to ask her what she had thought it was before, but she walked away from him before he could.

“Leliana’s men are already in position around the Temple.” Cassandra began as they approached. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Lavellan replied. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“This rift was the first, and it is the key.” Solas told her. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let us find a way down.” Cassandra said.

The Breach let out a groan above, and the rift below shifted in response.

“Now is the hour of our victory.” A voice echoed from the rift. “Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Cassandra seemed disturbed. “What are we hearing?”

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach.” Solas answered. He wondered if that would be enough to clear Lavellan’s name, or if they would execute her anyway.

But soon they stumbled upon something more disturbing, something that made even Varric reel back in horror. Red lyrium reaching out from the edge of the temple like sinister fingers stretching forward.

“What is this doing here?” Varric stepped back, keeping a sizable distance.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple,” Solas theorized, “corrupted it...”

Varric scoffed. “It’s evil. Don’t touch it.”

As they continued past, the voice from the rift called out again. “Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, please help me!” Another voice called out, different this time.

Cassandra glanced toward the rift in horror. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

When they were able, they leapt down to the lowest level of the Temple, where the rift was. The marked woman’s hand crackled in response, and voices began pouring from the rift again.

“Someone, please help me!”

“What is this?” Lavellan’s voice echoed out, shocked and horrified, but not from her. It came from the rift.

“That was your voice.” Cassandra stepped towards the woman. “Most Holy called out to you, but…”

The rift shuddered again, twisting its own light and shadows appeared as if on command. Solas could see one was the Divine, and while he knew who the other was, the fade had him cloaked in a mystery of grey and red. Then the shadow of the marked woman appeared, her face the most clear and visible of them all.

“What is this?” The shadow cried out once more.

“Run!” The Divine called out. “You must warn them!”

“We have an intruder.” The largest shadow called. Other shadows appeared then, squirming and barely recognizable as they surrounded the scene. “Slay the elf.”

The rift cracked and the shadows fled with the light.

“You were there!” Cassandra grabbed the marked woman by her shirt, gripping tight. “Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t know!” The woman replied, trying to pull Cassandra’s hands away from her. “I don’t even know how this is happening!”

“Echoes of what happened here.” Solas explained. “The Fade bleeds into this place.”

“So what we saw… that may not be true, not entirely.” Lavellan looked at him.

He was surprised. “It may hold a certain bias, yes. It was a perspective.” He cleared his throat and faced Cassandra. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… Albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then closed once more, properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons.” Cassandra called out to the men surrounding the temple. “Stand ready!”

The woman approached the rift, and magic surged forth from the Anchor into it. After a moment, the rift broke open and a very powerful Pride demon surged out.

He saw her slip up with her magic more and more, during the battle with that demon. At one point, liquid fire like magma poured from her hands and she flung it at the demon, setting patches of it aflame. The soldiers rained down upon it with arrows and Cassandra dug into it with her sword, and eventually it, too, was slain.

Then the woman reached up towards the rift and the Anchor latched on, but a long moment passed, and then another. It was not sealing as fast as the others. Solas swallowed hard. It would work. It had to.

Then the rift imploded on itself with a crack so loud his ears rang, and Lavellan immediately collapsed.

He could see the surge of power rising, rising into the Breach. When it hit, a light shone out so bright it blinded him. Ears still ringing, he rubbed desperately at his eyes so he could see, he had to see.

But when he looked up, the Breach was still there. He stepped forward and Lavellan was still unconscious on the ground. Cassandra called out to her, but she did not respond.

But the Breach was still there.

He had been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, i promise not all chapters will look exactly like this one. in the way of like, being canon dialogue basically. i don't like doing that but i kind of had to with this chapter.
> 
> so i hope you like it so far


	4. Chapter 4

During the winter, the members of her clan would tuck to sleep in the aravels at night. They would pile together like sleepy puppies in the children’s aravel, and she remembered it fondly.

But she was no longer a child. She burrowed herself deeper in her blankets, curling her legs up to find warmth. She could feel the chill from outside. It was one of the few things she missed about Bel. When he slept at her back, she often had to push him away to keep from sweating during the night, even during a frost.

She turned over, wondering what hour it was, when she realized she was not in an aravel at all. In fact, she had no idea where she was.

An elven girl came through the door, all smiles and rosy cheeks, until she saw that she was awake. Then she screamed and dropped what she was carrying, whatever it was crashing on the ground loudly.

“I didn’t know you were awake!” The girl’s hands went up.

“Why are you frightened?” Noll asked her, sitting up. “Has something happened?”

“Oh no…” This only seemed to trouble the girl more. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?”

“I- … No?” Noll was just as confused now. Then the girl dropped down on the floor, forehead pressed to the floorboards. “What are you doing?”

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing!” She said, taking her head off the ground to look up. “I am but a humble servant.”

Noll blinked. “What?”

“You are back in Haven, my lady.” She could see the girl’s throat moving as she swallowed hard. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like that mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days?” Noll gasped. “I’ve been asleep for three days?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” The elf stood quickly. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. ‘At once,’ she said.”

“Where is Cassandra?”

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor…” The elf scurried out of the room quickly, the door swinging closed behind her.

Whoever had looked over her while she slept had taken care to remove most of her filthy travelling clothing while preserving her modesty. This comforted her a little. She found other clothes laid out and clean smelling.

A pair of trousers, a tunic, and large worn boots. They all seemed made for a shem rather than someone of her size. The tunic may as well have been a dress and had the trousers not had a drawstring, they would’ve fallen down. She ignored the boots entirely.

When she felt comfortable enough, she opened the door and peered outside, and then promptly closed it again. There was a human mob outside.

Panic rose in her, gripping her tight by the throat. She pressed her back against the door and sat down, running her hands over and over through her dirty hair.

There was a human mob outside. She was still a prisoner, of course. She had failed to close the Breach, the girl from before had said. Stopped it from growing wasn’t the same as closed entirely. Gods, they had come to kill her.

She made sure the door was closed securely and crawled over to the bed that she had been on, tucking herself underneath. Perhaps they would search the cabin and find nothing if she hid… or perhaps they would light it on fire to smoke her out.

She trembled, her nervous hands clenching and unclenching in her tunic. She found herself wishing for Bel again. He was familiar to her, and was no mage. He could not be taken down by Templars. It was an odd world, where shooting fire from her hands could not protect her from all. She wished for her mother as well. The woman was old, but she knew how to wield a dagger and would let no harm come to her.

She wished for many members of her clan, there under the bed, alone and frightened.

After a while, she heard boots stomping up to the door, a knock, and then the door opening.

“My la-“ An unfamiliar voice began and soon stopped. She could see their feet as they stepped in. “Shit, she’s gone.”

She heard the thumping of them running out into the snow. “The Herald is gone!”

 _What is a herald?_ She thought. The door was left ajar and a cold blast of wind blew in. She curled tighter underneath the bed.

She heard shouting after, but could not make out what was said. Terrified to move, she stayed under the bed and did her best to stay quiet.

A long while passed, and then another set of feet entered the house she was in. They walked calmly to the center of the room, gave pause, and then over to the side of the bed before the person belonging to them laid down on the floor, peeking under.

“Now that can’t be very comfortable, Freckles.” Varric said.

“There was a mob outside my door.” She told him.

He gave a wry laugh. “Naturally, you’d see it that way.” He held out his hand to her, and after a moment she took it and he helped her out from underneath the bed. “They weren’t a mob. They just wanted to see you. All of them actually like you.”

“What?”

“I know, surprising, right?” He tilted his head. “The whole, keeping the Breach from growing, thing? Very popular with the people. And now they are all freaked out because they think you’ve been kidnapped or you ran off.”

“How did you know I’d still be here?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I’m sorry I- I must seem so foolish. I’m not used to,” she gestured around, “this. I’m not used to any of this.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the human stuff, not the Breach stuff.” She nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think you’re foolish. You’re just a kid. You’re nervous. I get it.”

“But what will everyone think of me when they find out that I was cowering under the bed the entire time?”

“They won’t know.” Varric smirked. “We’re gonna tell them you stepped out to relieve yourself and got lost on the way back, and lucky for you, the handsome dwarf found you and led you back.”

“They’ll believe that?”

“People believe what they want to. Now, come on. Let’s get you to the Chantry before Cassandra kills someone.”

The Chantry was a large stone building with thick wooden doors that lied up the hill, truly the center of the village. They heard shouting as soon as they entered. Cassandra’s muffled voice, along with the man from earlier, came from the room at the far end of the hall as they shouted at each other.

“Think you can handle yourself?” Varric asked.

“I think I’ll be okay.” Noll told him. He reached up, squeezing her arm for a moment, before walking out of the Chantry.

Uncomfortable, she waited until the shouting died down before she opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as he saw her, Roderick’s face twisted into a scowl.

“Chain her.” He said. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

Noll barely had any time to react before Cassandra spoke. “Disregard that, and leave us.” She was relieved to see the Templars at the door obeyed Cassandra rather than Roderick.

Roderick was still scowling. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

Cassandra stepped closer to the man, towering over him in height. “The Breach is stable but it’s still a threat.” Her teeth were clenched, her words pointed. “I will not ignore it.”

“I did what was asked of me.” Noll said. “I tried to use the mark to seal the Breach.”

“Did you truly?” Roderick turned on her. “May I remind you that you are still a suspect?”

“No, she is not.” Cassandra insisted, and Noll was shocked. They thought she was innocent now? Was she still a prisoner?

Did that mean she could leave? No, likely she would need to stay. The mark on her hand gave her a unique power over the rifts, and the Breach itself, it seemed. If she did not stay willingly, they could force her. Even so, she knew the Breach was dangerous and must be closed. Her clan came to mind. Even they would be affected by such a thing.

“So her survival,” Roderick was saying as she began listening again, “That thing on her hand… All a coincidence?”

 “Providence.” Cassandra replied. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Anger left Noll bitter and quickly sharpened her tongue. “Your Maker? Are you so quick to dismiss the possibility that it was one of mine own gods that sent me?”

“I thought your Gods locked away.” Leliana said.

“And I thought your Maker abandoned you.”

“Even so,” Cassandra interrupted, although she could see the hesitance. “No matter what you are or what you believe, you are exactly what we need when we needed it.” She turned away.

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” Leliana said, and Roderick was steaming.

“This is not for you to decide!”

Cassandra returned, a large tome in hand. She slammed it down in front of the Chancellor. “You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” She pulled back from the book, standing straight. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Then she advanced on the Chancellor, poking a gauntleted finger into his chest. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order-- with or without your approval.”

The Chancellor said nothing, only stormed out of the room, frowning.

“This is the Divine’s directive.” Leliana said to her, then glanced at the book. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old, and find those who will stand against the chaos.” She paused, frowning. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no chantry support.”

“We have no choice.” Cassandra said. “We must act now, with you at our side.” She looked over at Noll expectantly.

“Restoring peace is a worthy goal…” Noll began, and Leliana quickly nodded.

“That is our plan.”

Cassandra held out her hand. “Help us fix this. You are the only one who can.”

Noll shifted from foot to foot. “We shall seal the Breach, then.” She took Cassandra’s hand and the woman shook it so firmly that she nearly rattled her shoulder out of its socket.

It would take some days to get things arranged. She knew and would be unable to help with that. She had no political allies she could call on, none except her clan, and they were very far away. They would be of little help and all of them taking the risk to travel to Haven would not be worth it.

She was instructed to an area where many people sat around a table. They ate and laughed together. She sat, and saw many bowls of stew and plates of bread upon the table.

She was unfamiliar with the idea of so much food. In her clan, they rarely had enough to go around, and when they did you ate what you were given so the rest did not spoil. She was hungry, so she ate.

A half hour later, a chantry sister found her retching in a bush at the side of the Chantry.

“You’re not supposed to eat so much, poor dear.” The woman said. “Come, let’s get you back to your home so you can lay down.”

She was guided by the hand, like a child, back to the house she had been in before. She was thankful, however. Her nausea made her dizzy. There was water in the house, and she drank down half of it before she managed a breath to thank the woman.

She smiled, skin crinkling around her eyes. “It’s no trouble. You lay down and I’ll see if I can get someone to look at you.”

“Uh, no, that’s not necessary…”

But the woman left. Noll sighed and tucked herself into the bed, trying to stop her head from spinning. Each moment she relaxed more and more, the gentle sounds of the wind outside brushing against the walls of the home, until she was nearly asleep. Then someone entered and she jolted away.

“Solas?” Noll sat up. “You are the healer?”

“You do not need to sit up. I was told you are ill.” He said, and she awkwardly laid back down. “And no, I am not. The apothecary, Adan, is considered the healer in Haven. He is busy, however. There was a fistfight in the tavern. I am here instead.”

“I appreciate it, but this isn’t necessary.” Noll insisted.

“The sister who came to see me said you were ill.”

“Not in the way of… a sickness, just…” She stumbled on the words, embarrassed. “I am not used to… I do not know how much food is wise to eat before making myself ill, it seems.”

He frowned and took the chair at the table, turning it around and sitting so he could speak to her. “Your clan did not have much food?”

“It was not always easy. Sometimes, the hunters brought back a kill each day, and the gardens grew.” Noll grimaced. “But winters were always hard. Animals hide, it is harder to conceal one’s steps upon snow…” She trailed off.

“I travelled the wilderness by myself for the majority of my life.” Solas said. “I am no great hunter, but I managed to feed myself well enough.” _That is not in doubt,_ Noll thought, and bit her cheek to keep from making a face. It was hard not to notice how profoundly tall he was. “How is it that your clan could not provide for your people?”

“There were many.” It was simple, she did not see how he didn’t understand. “The meat of one kill is not enough for our entire clan. The children eat first, always, and then the elderly and then the rest of us.”

“Why did you not hunt more, then?”

“I was not a hunter, I do not know the specifics of it.” She admitted. “Perhaps it was the environment. Perhaps the shems had hunted too much and drove all the prey away. All I know was how it was, and how I am. I made a fool of myself today and I am in no need of healing.”

His face softened. “Here.” He reached into a small bad he carried and pulled out a bit of elfroot, the dirt having been neatly cleaned off. “Eat it, it will help your stomach.” He learned forward and handed it to her, and she did as he said.

They sat in silence as she chewed, him looking at her the entire time. After a long moment passed, he pulled his chair forward a bit, closer to the bed.

“May I examine your mark?” He asked politely.

She held out her hand immediately. “Of course.”

He pressed his finger lightly down the center of her palm. “Does it pain you still?”

“Not in the same way that it did.” She answered.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Before it was… it was as if someone were trying to pull the bones of my arm out through the palm of my hand.” She shook her head. “It was a tearing, a burning.”

He had brought his attention from her hand to her face. “And now?”

“Now it is only an ache.” She said. “Leftovers from the feelings of before. It aches in my bones too. The tearing is gone.” A moment passed. “It itches a little.”

He laughed a bit at that. He clasped her hand with his own, gentle as could be, and she felt his magic pour into the mark. After a moment, the ache had abided a bit.

“How is that?” He released her hand and stood.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She told him. “I can abide by a bit of pain.”

“That is not what I asked.”

She frowned. “It is better.”

“Good.” He took the chair and put it back in its original place. “You should rest. If your mark ever pains you again, do not hesitate to seek me out.”

“Thank you, Solas.”

“It is nothing. I came here to help.” He left abruptly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The elfroot calmed the nervousness in her stomach and, with the pain of the mark diminished, she felt her own exhaustion. Everyone in Haven was being so kind to her, and they did not even know her. Why? So that she would stay? Or because they were afraid of her?

Solas did not seem afraid. Varric did not seem afraid. They were not humans, however, and she wondered if that changed their perspective on her.

The mark barely glowed in her palm as she brought it up to her face to examine it. She did not know what the thing was, or where it had come from, but she suspected that it was the only thing that had kept her alive thus far. However, she could not predict the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw i'm not going to have this thing go cutscene by cutscene. that would literally kill me and i would die.


	5. Chapter 5

Solas wondered if the advisers to the Inquisition were being truly wise when they made their Herald into a glorified errand girl.

They sent her to the Hinterlands to chat with a chantry mother and spread their influence, and while the Dalish woman was very happy to help every single person she met, he could not help but question what they were even doing there.

Surely the Herald of Andraste would be better doing something else, perhaps learning the names of all the Chantry figures, rather than traipsing around in the mud and fetching things for common folk? He sighed at the thought. No, this was not a terrible plan. Having her address things directly gave her a connection to her people, and made the Inquisition look very noble. Noll did not seem to have a problem with it either, as she agreed to help everyone enthusiastically.

There was the war as well. Their small group was left to clean up as much of the mess that they could, and it was fortunate that they were able to establish many camps and bases, because their need for potions were great.

They found the apostates in Witchwood. Solas had tried to reason with them when they first arrived, but they did not care. It seemed that the rebel mages left in the Hinterlands would strike down anyone who stood before them, even another mage. It was regrettable that they had to die, but not so much to let himself get killed over it.

Defeating them was easy enough, once they had broken through the barrier and into their hideout in full. He expected as much, considering Cassandra’s talents as a Seeker.

“I expected the fight to be more difficult.” Noll said as she picked through the pockets of the corpses.

“You sound almost disappointed, Freckles.” Varric laughed.

“I suppose I am, just a little.” She admitted. “I wanted to see the full force of what circle-taught magic could do, compared to the Dalish magic that I learned.”

“It is vastly different, that much is true.” Solas said.

“Yes. The magic I was taught, well…” She pocketed a handful of coins. “It flows better. It’s more natural, especially when fighting. The magic I’ve seen from the circle-trained is so… rigid.”

“You were taught to actually make use of your skill with magic, I imagine.” Solas explained. “While the circle-trained were taught with the hopes that they would never need to use theirs.”

“Is that so terrible?” Cassandra asked.

“Perhaps it is.” Noll pried a staff from the fingers of one of the dead mages. “I think this staff would suit you better than the one you have now, Solas. Ice magic is not something I’m skilled at, but you seem to prefer it.”

Solas took the staff from her and gave it a few experimental swings. “Indeed. My thanks.”

Fighting the Templars proved much less easy, considering half of his group consisted of mages. Noll was cautious enough to stand and cast a ways away from the fighting, and Solas stood with her. When a Templar rushed close to them, he used mind blast to keep from having their magic nullified.

Cassandra and Varric managed most of the fighting. That was, until Noll got impatient and set the few remaining Templars on fire. This seemed to be her habit in battle, which was not necessarily the best strategy. It was harder for Cassandra to fight when her enemies were on fire.

When the Templars were defeated, Noll decided that they would return to the Crosswords to spread the word, as well as continue to help the people there.

When they found the Crossroads again, it was much in the same state it had been in before.

Solas sighed and looked around at the many injured, and put his healing skills to use in what ways they could help while the others were busy.

He healed a handful of refugees to his best ability, found a very plentiful elfroot plant growing nearby, and managed to stop a heated argument between two men about whether or not the Inquisition was truly part of the Chantry.

The Herald approached him after a while, as he found a place to sit on the stone wall when he could see nothing else to attend to.

“Are you a skilled hunter, Solas?” She asked, standing beside where he sat and leaning against the stones.

“We have discussed my skill with hunting already, if you recall.”

“I do,” She smiled politely. “You said you were no great hunter, but I was wondering how skilled you are exactly.”

“Skilled enough, I imagine.” He tilted his head at her. “Why? Are you planning some great hunt?”

She laughed. “No, not exactly. The people here have no food. It was heavily implied that, should I return back with a wagon full of ram meat, these people would be better off for it.”

“A ram is a hard animal to kill with a bow.” Solas said. “Even so, I imagine Varric does not know how to hunt at all, considering he seems to much prefer to make his home in cities.”

“I thought the same.” She nodded. “I know only a few spells useful for hunting, but not many. Hunting with magic is not preferable.”

“Yes, but considering the amount of hungry people here that need to be fed, it seems necessary.” Solas stood and straightened his clothes. “There are many people here who need help.”

“Yes.” Noll looked out over the refugees crowding up the crossroads. “Some came to me directly to ask for aid. I want to help them as best as we can.”

“It would do well for the Inquisition to be seen as a helpful hand in times of darkness.”

“Not just that.” She stood beside him. “If I have the tools to help, why should I not?”

“Some would say there is no true benefit, that you would be better suited spending your time to spread the influence of the Inquisition elsewhere.”

She frowned. “I would not say such.”

“Neither would I.” Solas told her.

The hunt did not go as smoothly as either one of them would’ve liked. Noll lead them to an area that had been marked on her map, for a hunter had told her that many rams roamed the hills nearby. However, the animals were aware that they were prey, and would flee as soon as they were noticed.

Cassandra attempted helpfulness, and would’ve been much more useful if she could’ve managed to quiet her steps. Varric, however, knew his own uselessness and stayed back with some of the scouts to wait until they actually killed something.

It ended up taking a combined effort of Noll using a paralysis spell, so weak that it barely stopped the ram, while Solas sent a spike of ice through the beast.

They managed to repeat the process near a dozen times, the scouts coming to collect the kill after, until they were frustrated and exhausted.

By the time the final beast was killed, Solas found his head aching, and his depleted magic left him sore to the bone.

“No wonder your clan is starving, if that’s how you hunt.” He had not meant it how he said it. He had not, in fact, meant to say it at all.

“I am not a hunter, Solas.” She countered. “The hunters of my clan are far more skilled at this than I am. The best hunter in my clan single-handedly kill a bear with only a great sword, and he was a teenager at the time. I know very little of such things outside magic, and what I do know was what my mother taught me before I came into my magic.”

“I apologize.” He admitted hesitantly. “It is just frustrating.”

“I understand how you feel, but I would appreciate if you did not aim your negative emotions at me.” She was still sore from his unintended insult, he could tell by her tone. “I doubt insulting me truly makes you feel better, and if it does, then perhaps you should think about why that is.”

He frowned but said nothing. Her words left him rankled, and he hated that she was right.

Varric and Cassandra rejoined them as the scouts figured out how to haul the dead rams to the hunter in the Crossroads.

“That should certainly be enough to feed everyone there.” Cassandra said.

“Maybe we should head back to camp and feed ourselves.” Varric said. “We’ve been at it all day.”

“I am rather hungry.” Noll shifted from one foot to another. “Alright, we can head back to camp and be finished for the day. Tomorrow we will attempt to find this cult I’ve heard about, and perhaps the rest of these caches that were hidden by the rebel mages.”

The camp had been crowded by scouts and soldiers during the day, but at night they had found their way either into the Crossroads or into their own tents for rest. A few people were still about, however, and one of them had been tending to a giant cauldron of stew used to feed everyone there.

Solas sat near the fire to warm his toes and eat a bowl of the stew he had received from the scout at the pot. Noll sat near to him, but not so near as to invade his space. Her knees were drawn up, and she ate as well.

“If you are still hungry,” He told her after a moment. “I’m sure you could ask for more. I do not think another bowl would make you ill.”

She smiled politely. “I do not want anyone else to go without.”

“No one will go without. You have made sure of that yourself.”

She seemed to think about his words for a moment before returning to the scout, empty bowl in hand, and then returned to the fire to eat once more.

“I imagine you will need your strength for the days to come, since you are the Herald, Andraste’s chosen meant to save us all.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t- I never wanted to be…” She sighed. “Someone has to find a way to seal the Breach, and if that power lies with me, then I will stay here until it is done.”

“That is noble.” She grimaced at his words. “I’m not mocking you, although I realize why you think I would be.” He groped for an excuse. “You must realize, I have not been around people for quite some time. It is hard to hold my tongue.”

“I’ve heard you were a hermit.” She admitted. “From Varric, of course. I must admit to some curiosity. If you were not around people, by yourself for so many years, what did you do?”

He smiled. “I slept, and I dreamed.”

“Dreamed?”

“I’ve made my journeys deep into the fade.” He explained. “I slept in ruins and ancient battlefields, trying to catch a glimpse of what was there before. I caught more than glimpses. I saw the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve seen ancient wars fought, some so ancient that they have been forgotten entirely by history as it exists today.” He paused. “I will admit to wondering how these events will be mirrored in the fade once this is over, and how you will be remembered.”

“You slept in ruins and on battlefields?” She sat her now empty bowl on the ground next to her. “I cannot imagine getting so comfortable as to sleep in such a dangerous place.”

He laughed. “I have my methods. But both places attract spirits. Battlefields have been awash with death, and ruins were once teeming by life. The spirits grow curious, they wish to see, and they weaken the Veil in their attempt to do so. When I sleep in such places, I journey deep into the fade, and find memories that no other being has ever seen.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” She admitted. “I actually did not know such a thing were even possible. I cannot imagine such a thing takes anything less than extraordinary talent.”

“Thank you.” He was both surprised and genuinely flattered by the compliment. “It is not common, no. It is dangerous for most to even try, and it is not a particularly ostentatious magic, but there is a satisfaction there. Finding memories so old, learning and discovering new things each day… I prefer it to any alternative, and would not trade it for anything.”

“No one is asking you to, Solas.” He looked over at her. “Your knowledge has been invaluable so far. I cannot imagine where we would be without your help.”

Her golden eyes were gleaming in the firelight, and he found that, despite being Dalish, he did not find her detestable. She could even be charming sometimes, and her kindness towards others was already obvious to him. It would not pain him to help this Inquisition more, so long as her opinion still held weight. He was uncertain of how much he trusted the others, especially those he had not met.

“I will stay, then.” He decided it and he told her as much. “Until the Breach is closed.”

“I didn’t realize that you hadn’t decided yet.”

He shook his head. “I am an elven apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion.”

“I am as well.” She reminded him.

“You are essential to them. You have the mark.” He pointed at her hand. “I am not so essential, and so I must be cautious.”

Her face hardened. “You came here and risked your life to help when you did not have to. I would not let them harm you.”

He almost laughed. “You would stop them, if they tried? How?”

“However I had to.”

Her conviction left him stunned, and he could do nothing more than thank her and look away.

He could see, out of the corner of his eyes, that she stared at him another moment before looking into the fire. She stretched her feet out in front of her, dangerously close to the flame, and flexed her toes. She had no reason to fear the flame, she could control it with her own magic. It was the one thing he could see that she had talent in.

Interest rose in him, and he asked her “You were the First of your clan?”

“I still am.” She corrected.

“Of course.” He nodded. “I was only wondering what sort of duties you had, as First.”

“Many.” She explained. “My clan had a Second as well, but he was much younger than I, and so I completed his duties for him.” She crossed her arms in front of herself. “My primary responsibility was protection of the Keeper. I could not let anything harm her. My secondary responsibility was to learn. The First is apprenticed to the Keeper, so I was meant to learn magic from her.”

“How could you protect your Keeper if your magic was inferior to hers?” Solas wondered.

“It is mostly formality.” She explained. “However, Keeper Deshanna is rather old. It is hard for her to perform more complicated spells. The Templar risk persists, however, and so it would fall to me to protect her.”

“Templars would attack your clan?”

“The shems will insist that they do not, but they do.” She nodded. “Our clan would be attacked at least a few times a year, and mostly it was Templars who attacked us. It was my duty to protect the Keeper, even if it meant giving my life for it. I would rather die fighting a Templar than see what would become of my clan if they succeeded.”

Solas frowned. “What happens if a Templar succeeds?”

“I have only heard tales from the other clans, but I believe them to be true. Templars slaughter every non-magical elf within the clan, and they make all of the mages Tranquil.”

Solas dug his fingernails into his knee. “Why Tranquility? Why not simply capture them?”

Noll shook her head. “Never again shall we submit. A Dalish in a circle tower would always attempt to escape, and would constantly spit in the face of the Chantry. No, the only way would be Tranquility.”

“Your clan starved. How could you possibly defend yourself against such an attack?”

“I did not say there were no casualties.”

Solas frowned. “I see. I…” He picked his words carefully. “I am sorry for insulting you today.”

“If you are apologizing because you feel bad for me, I’d rather you not.” Her eyes were hard when she looked at him. “I do not need your pity, nor do I want it.”

“That is not the way of it.” He insisted. “I would not have you think of me as someone who will be rude to you. You are…” _Different than I thought._ “Doing your best to help remedy this situation, and I do not want to make things more difficult for you than they need to be.”

She smiled then, genuinely. “It is already forgiven, Solas.” She stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired.”

“Of course.” He said, and she made her way into one of the tents.

The Dalish struggled. He knew they did. He had already assumed most of the information she told him, but to hear it from her only confirmed it. He could not rid himself of the kernel of bitterness he felt when he thought of them, but perhaps it were only she that were different. While the rest of them allowed themselves to fester in their own hatred, she thought differently. Perhaps this were the case.

It was difficult to look upon her face, branded with the vallaslin, and not feel something about it. He wondered what she would say, if she knew all the truths that he knew.

But she could not. And when he tucked himself into his bedroll sometime later, the thoughts of the people of this age continued to swirl in his head and he found it hard to find the Fade.


	6. Chapter 6

Val Royeaux was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Noll had never truly been inside of a city, and she’d heard that the capital of Orlais was the most beautiful of them all.

The perfectly painted walls, the golden statues, the exquisite craftsmanship of it all… It was spoiled by the sudden thought of how many elves had to die, and continue to die, in order to see the city built and functioning.

Noll had a distaste for Orlais in general. The accents grated on her nerves, but that wasn’t the whole of it. She knew how they treated her people. She knew what they said and what they did. It was not as if she had never had the words “knife ear” or “rabbit” flung hatefully in her direction.

She knew that for all the beauty and elegance of Orlais, it only hid the rottenness underneath. It was like biting into a red apple and finding the fruit had blackened inside, and it left her bitter and disgusted.

Indeed, this was only proven when the Chantry mother who stood preaching above a crowd told her that the Maker would never send an elf in their hour of need.

Noll had to resist the impulse to roll her eyes and remind the old woman that she claimed that their Maker created them all, and that would include elves. However, it did not make her happy to see the woman beaten down by Templars.

Among the Dalish, the Templar order was a frightening monster. They were a more real and terrifying threat than Fen’Harel himself. The Dread Wolf was not spotted so often as a band of Templars, and a Dalish clan could not afford to catch the scent of either.

It had been a long time since Noll had felt the full force of a holy smite, but she remembered the feel of it keenly. The overwhelming force of it seemed to knock her magic right out of her grasp, the effect dizzying her like a hard punch to the head. A cruelty. She did not want to imagine these Templars smiting frightened children within the Circles.

The Lord Seeker was the most arrogant man she’d ever spoken to. The look in his eye betrayed a sadism underneath and she hated when his gaze was fixed upon her. She was only completely comfortable again once he was gone.

“Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?” Cassandra asked, staring after the man.

“Who knows?” Noll answered. “But I never want to be near him or his ilk again.”

Cassandra turned to her. “But we could need the Templars-“

“He claimed the Inquisition showed him less than nothing, but the Templar order certainly showed me something today.” Noll said. “Barging in and beating down an old woman, insulting us directly, showing the most ridiculous display of arrogance I’ve ever seen… Are these the people you truly want to ally with the Inquisition? How would that make us look?”

“You have yet to meet with the mages.” Cassandra insisted. “They could be worse.”

“I doubt it.” Noll crossed her arms. “But either way, one group must be chosen in the end. The Breach must be closed.”

“Indeed.” Solas approached the group, and Varric with him. “We must seal the Breach as soon as possible.”

“We get it, the Breach closing is important.” Varric groaned. “But I agree with Freckles. We shouldn’t ally ourselves with a bunch of assholes in order to do that. Not if there’s another way, at least.”

Noll smiled. “Thank you, Varric.”

“We should look around the market a bit before we go.” Cassandra said. “Perhaps we can acquire more agents… or…”

“I saw you throwing wanting looks at those new swords over there.” Noll grinned. “Go on. I will find you when we are about to depart.”

The schematics interested Noll. She knew a variety of them would benefit the Inquisition, so she ordered many from the vendor who was selling them. She also had a moment of weakness overlooking jewelry.

It was not that the Dalish lacked things such as jewelry and trinkets. They had those, crafted mostly from humble materials such as ironbark or bronze and sometimes more rare things like sylvanwood.

But these human merchants, they had gold. They had gems. Beautiful and useless things, but she wanted to look upon them nonetheless.

As a child, she had often snuck away from the clan into the darkness of the forest. She lurked in the shadows as human caravans passed, listening to their chatter. She stole things often, while they had their heads turned. She picked apart their camps once they were gone.

She had given herself away to her Keeper eventually. Deshanna had a sharp eye, and noted the unfamiliar gleam of gold at her collar one evening. She had been sharply reprimanded for endangering herself and the clan in such a way, but she did not stop.

Not until one of the caravans caught her, beat her senseless, and almost took her hand for thieving. It was Bel who’d saved her from that fate. He had been new to the clan at the time, and nosy, and she was luckier for it.

There would be no thieving in the marketplace of Val Royeaux, however. Especially not when the merchant threw her a look that dared her to even touch one of the necklaces dangling from the hooks on his stall.

She saw Solas enter a doorway nearby, and followed to speak to him.

“Does this place sell food?” She asked him as he saw her enter as well. The air was filled with the comforting scent of baking bread.

“It does.” He nodded. “It is a bakery.”

The man at the counter scoffed. “Have you never been in a bakery before? Do you even speak Orlesian, rabbit?”

She frowned and replied, in perfectly practiced Orlesian, that she knew more than he assumed. The shock on his face satisfied her greatly, and set Solas to laughing.

“I have to ask where you learned Orlesian.” Solas admitted once his chuckling was over.

“It is beneficial for a Dalish Keeper to know many languages, since we travel. I would be Keeper one day, so as First I was set to learn many.”

“How many do you know?” He asked.

“Quite a few.” She said with a sly smile. “It was one of the things I excelled at.”

“Is that so?” He was smiling when she looked back at him, but he let it drop from his face quickly and cleared his throat. “Well, I was only wondering as to what they sold here.”

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Not particularly.” He made a face. “Sometimes food can be eaten simply for the pleasure of eating it.”

“I am aware.” She frowned, digging her toe into the cold stone floor. “Just because my clan did not have the resources to do so often, did not mean that I could not enjoy such things on occasion.”

“I would assume the food eaten among your clan would be rather… simple.”

“Mostly.” She admitted. “We did have hearth cakes, though. I recall having them more often as a child. They were my favorite.”

“They have cakes here.” He offered. “I rather enjoy them as well.”

He pointed at a few strange looking squares on the counter. They looked like odd lumps of shaped clay.

She glared at him suspiciously. “Those do not look like cake.”

He laughed again. “What does cake look like?”

“Like… bread.” She explained. “Colorful in places, where the fruit and berries are.”

He dug a few coins out of his pocket and dropped them on the counter in front of the vendor, barely looking at the man, and then picked up one of the odd lumps. He broke it in half, revealing the bread inside, and handed it to her.

“Go on, try it.” He held it out and she hesitantly took it.

“I…” She held it awkwardly in her fingers.

“What’s wrong?”

“It- It looks _weird_.” She shifted awkwardly and he started laughing again. “Am I so amusing?”

“I’m sorry.” He tried to hide his smile. “It is rather frightening to try new things.”

“You’re making fun of me.” She pouted.

“Only a little.” He gestured toward her hand. “Try it… unless you are afraid.”

“I am not.” She took a quick bite of it and immediately winced at how sweet it was, but after a moment found that it was not entirely unpleasant. It tasted somewhat like fruit, like the sweet red berries that grew over the forest. It was still oversweet, and left a film in her mouth once she was finished.

He ate his own half and watched her, obviously amused. “You did not die.”

“I did not think I would die.” Her face was burning hot from his teasing. He only shook his head in response, and she joined him walking out of the bakery. She ate the rest of the odd cake quickly, her teeth aching once she swallowed the last bit.

An arrow whizzed past her head and buried itself in the wall next to her. She stood in shock when she felt the tingling gleam of a barrier set around her.

“You’re quick.” She looked over at Solas, but he was glancing around for the shooter. “It has a message. I don’t think it was intended to hurt me.”

“Caution is not unwise, considering your position.” He released the barrier with a frown. “This would not have been the first attempt at your life.”

Her eyebrows drew together as she detached the message from the arrow. “Really?”

“When you were unconscious in Haven, before you stopped the Breach from spreading.” He crossed his arms. “There were attempts, albeit sloppy ones.”

“I imagine Cassandra didn’t much like the idea of anyone killing her prisoner before she could question them.”

“Indeed.” His grimness let up a bit. “Apothecary Adan did not like the idea of you being tampered with either. Not after he worked so hard to save you.”

“I thought it was you that kept the mark from killing me.”

“I-“ He averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “It was a… combined effort.”

“Thank you nonetheless.” He only nodded in response.

Varric found them first, and then Cassandra did as well, a shiny new blade strapped to her hip. And then Fiona found them, much to Noll’s surprise.

The Grand Enchanter was polite but hurried, and Noll could not blame her. An elven mage in Val Royeaux, especially a leader of a mage rebellion, would not be very safe. Noll and Solas were protected by the Inquisition, and Fiona was not.

“Are you considering meeting with the mages in Redcliffe?” Solas asked her as they made their way out of Val Royeaux.

“I am.” Noll replied. “I will see what their offer is, at the very least.”

“Your favoritism of the mages is obvious enough.” Cassandra’s mouth was set in a straight line when Noll looked to her.

“I have a favoritism of people who are polite to me.” Noll’s eyes narrowed. “But if you insist, then yes. I am a mage. I would like to see mages freed, even though I have never been in a circle myself.”

“And the dangers?” Cassandra leveled an equally scathing look at her. “Are we to simply ignore blood magic, ignore murder? Mages are dangerous.”

“All people are dangerous, Cassandra.” Noll crossed her arms. “A mage is dangerous because you think they may use a spell to harm you. A very strong warrior could be dangerous, they could harm you with their bare hands. All people are vulnerable to possession, not just mages.”

“And blood magic?”

“There are reasons that laws exist.”

“Laws do not stop blood magic.”

“Laws do not stop murder by other means either.”

“ _You_ -“ Cassandra stopped herself and sighed. “I do not wish to argue with you, Herald. I only wish you would consider things further.”

Noll offered a small smile. “I have made no decisions yet.”

They went on a few recruitment missions that were on the way. Sera was an elf and an archer, although she did not seem to have a taste for her fellow elves. Vivienne was a tall, elegant mage who Noll would’ve mistaken for a queen at first glance- if the woman wasn’t obviously magical. Madame de Fer politely slaughtered a rude Orlesian noble for insulting Noll, and left his corpse to bloody up the dance floor. Noll was charmed by them both, although she did not hold on to hopes that they would get along.

Sera seemed disappointed that Noll was an elf, and Noll figured she would be disappointed by her more and more as they got to know each other. Vivienne was a staunch supporter of the Circles, which Noll disagreed on.

In Haven, Sera avoided discussing “elfy” things with Noll, which suited her fine. Outside of pointed ears, they got along well enough. Vivienne, however, did not hard-hitting questions. Noll gave her vague answers in order to avoid open confrontation.

Noll also received the first gift of her position. A young human girl, no older than sixteen, gave it to her.

“Socks,” The girl had said, offering them meekly. “Your feet look cold.”

Noll had looked down at her feet in the snow, wiggling her toes. “I suppose they are. You have my thanks.”

It was later in the evening, when she had gone to do some reading before bed, that she actually put the things on. They were marvelous. They were soft and warm, so unlike the uncomfortable shoes the humans put on their own feet. They stuck gently and comfortably to her skin, but did not chafe.

While she read, she rubbed her feet together over and over to repeat the sensation. She kept them on even as she slept, and wore them outside in the morning.

Varric had laughed at her, of course. “You’re not supposed to just wear socks. You’re supposed to wear shoes over them.”

“I don’t want to.” Noll insisted. “I like them like this.”

“Okay.” He shook his head with a grin. “But everyone’s going to think you’re weird—weirder than they already thought, that is.”

She did get a few sideways glances, but that was negated when she saw the girl who had given them to her and she pointed at her feet with a smile. The girl’s face had lit up with pride.

She made her way into the war room to help with decisions for the Inquisition, and heard that there was a letter from her clan. With a rush of shame, she realized that she had almost forgotten about them entirely. They were probably worried, her mother most of all.

They thought she was a prisoner, she realized as she read over Deshanna’s letter. Her heart ached with the knowledge that they thought she was imprisoned and meant to help her. Of course the Keeper would want her back, she was useful after all, but she knew that her mother had likely had some say in this as well.

“Send one agent, an elf.” Noll told them. “I will write a letter—perhaps a few letters, to be delivered to them.”

The first was easy.

_Keeper,_

_The events at the Conclave are difficult to explain. I have no doubt that you’ve heard stories already. The shems spread wild tales about how I was delivered from the Fade by their prophetess, Andraste. They call me her Herald. I have done all I can to deny this, but they insist._

_It is true, however, that I came from the fade. I do not know how, or why, but I have been permanently marked by the experience. I have new magic now, branded into my hand. This magic is the only thing that seals rifts that open up and pour the Fade into our world._

_I have chosen, of my own free will, to stay with the Inquisition to help seal the Breach and all of the rifts._

_I would prefer to keep in touch with you. I know that the clan is low on resources, but I would still aid you, however I am able._

_With respect,  
Noll_

The second was not.

_Mother,_

_Things have occurred. I will not be able to return to the clan as quickly as I’d hoped. With the Inquisition, I can help. Strange things have happened. I do not know how to fully explain. I have written to the Keeper about the circumstances, and perhaps she could help with that._

_I want you to know that I am well, and in good condition. The humans here are not unkind. They have given me warm clothes to wear and food to eat. They heal me when I am injured. It is more than I expected._

_I may be away from you, but my heart is with you. I am still loyal to my people. I will return once the sky has mended._

_With Love,_   
_Noll_

She thought briefly about writing a third letter for Bel, but quickly changed her mind. She did not owe him any explanation, and if he was so curious he could simply ask her mother.

When she handed off the letters she wondered if someone would go through them and see what she was writing. She wondered if they trusted her so much.

It did not matter.

Noll returned to her dwelling, socks still on her feet, and curled herself into bed. It was still the middle of the day, but she felt homesickness digging into her as well as guilt.

She nearly forgot her clan, and now that she was reminded, they were all she could think about. The laughter and occasional fights, the bravado of the hunters, the stories, and the aravels… The grass beneath her feet and tickling between her toes, the smell of the wide open plains, the freedom.

Her heart ached and she twisted in the bed. She had wanted to leave before, and now all she wanted was to go back and see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next-- more solas pov
> 
> let me know if you enjoy


	7. Chapter 7

There were few among the newly recruited of the Inquisition that Solas got along with. Sera was a fool who cared nothing for her own people. Vivienne was much the same, except she was no fool, but instead deliberately turned her eyes from the things she saw. The Iron Bull was a Qunari spy. Blackwall was a Grey Warden.

Oddly, Blackwall was the most tolerable of them. Perhaps because he was not one of the leaders of the organization, simply a soldier who was following simple orders, and who had chosen his own path by joining the Inquisition.

He found it increasingly strange that the person he got along with best in the organization was the Herald herself, a Dalish. She did not seem to be like the Dalish he knew. She was not dismissive of the things he said, and instead readily accepted them. She did not differentiate the elves outside of the Dalish with her own, insisting they were all the same people. He supposed that this could be attributed to her person rather than her background, which seemed the most likely to him.

Considering their shared view of the mages, it did not shock him when they travelled to Redcliffe to converse with the mages. What did shock him was the magic at play there.

The Veil was different in Redcliffe. Normally the Veil was like water, reflective and rippling, soft if you had the strength to push through. In Redcliffe, the Veil was like shattered glass. Hard in places, painfully fractured in others. You could either push through, or you could not. It reflected things oddly. It was not like anything he’d seen before.

Fiona did not remember inviting them. Noll responded patiently but Solas could feel himself grimacing with annoyance. Shapeshifting was rare in this age, and shapeshifting into the form of another used to be a monumental task for his own people, so he knew that such a feat would be impossible with the weak magic of the current era. Fiona had met with them in Val Royeaux, and he could only conclude that she was playing some sort of game with them now.

When it was revealed that a Tevinter magister had seized control of Redcliffe, he could only conclude that she was feigning ignorance for safety.  The rebel mages were terrified and were pushed into indenturing themselves to a magister for safety.

Noll was visibly less patient once Magister Alexius arrived. Solas could see the tightness in her jaw and how her posture became rigid. She was careful with her words, but anyone who knew her would know that she disliked this magister.

When the magister’s son stumbled toward her and fell upon her, she cried out from the shock of it. Solas felt the urge to step forward, but resisted. Cassandra, however, did not resist her own impulse. She stepped forward and had a fistful of the young man’s shirt before Alexius was on his feet.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” Felix was genuinely remorseful as his father helped him back up. Cassandra was scowling as she let go of his shirt.

When they had all gone, Cassandra turned to the Herald. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Noll told her. “I was just shocked, but he gave me this…” She unfolded a slip of parchment in her hands. “It says I’m in danger, and to meet in the Chantry.”

“I could be a trap.” Cassandra crossed her arms.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Varric shrugged. “If it’s a trap, we’ll be there to protect her.”

“That’s true.” Cassandra admitted.

“I think we should investigate.” Noll folded the paper and jammed it into her jacket pocket. “Which way is the Chantry?”

In the Chantry was another Tevinter, as well as a rift that Noll sealed easily. The man, after he got over his fascination with Noll’s anchor, introduced himself as Dorian. He quickly clarified that he was not a magister, although Solas cared very little about the specifics of his position. He also spoke of time magic.

Solas knew that many things were possible if one’s magic was powerful enough. Time magic was something that had, so far, been impossible to cast. He had surmised in the past that such magic would likely take an incredible amount of power, more than he ever personally held. And yet, to think that one Tevinter Magister living in this broken world could accomplish it… He wondered what was so different now that allowed its creation, and all of the terrible dangers that could come to pass because of it.

“This has become very dangerous.” Cassandra said as they left the chantry. “Perhaps we would be better off finding the Templars instead.”

“And leave a Tevinter Magister in control of a city in Ferelden?” Noll shook her head. “No, I cannot allow this to stay the way that it is. This time magic, these Venatori, and their control over the rebel mages… The Inquisition must intervene and set things right. Surely you can see that this must be done?”

“Of course.” Solas was surprised at how readily the Seeker agreed with her. “We must expel this Magister from Redcliffe, and find out the true nature of these Venatori, especially since they are fixated upon you in particular.”

“I cannot help what truly happened to Arl Teagan. I know that he would not readily leave his land. I heard of what he did for Redcliffe during the Blight.”

“I do not know.” Cassandra shook her head ruefully. “I just hope that whatever happened, he was unharmed.”

“Yes. He will need to return to Redcliffe once we get rid of Alexius.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that again?” Varric interrupted. “He’s got all of his Tevinter buddies here, and time magic too. It’s not like we can just smash a vase over his head and throw him in the river.”

Noll turned to him. “I’m sure Leliana could come up with something, or perhaps Cullen or Josephine.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Varric admitted. “We’ll see.”

The wind was strong in Haven when they returned, and it was snowing heavily. Solas went to his small dwelling for shelter as Cassandra and Noll headed for the Chantry.

He had collected a small amount of books to read and research in his spare time, when he had some. However, that evening, rather than do something productive, he decided to skim through a copy of Varric’s _Tale of the Champion_.

Hawke was written as a compelling hero, and Solas wondered if she was truly the same person outside of the novel. The champion, before she even became such, got along well with her companions. Her friendship with the two elves she travelled with was especially strong, although it seemed her heart belonged to the Rivaini pirate.

Anders, despite his obvious importance to the story, was often left out of the dialogue. Solas could not help but think that this was because of Varric’s personal distaste for the man rather than the actual truth of the events.

Solas read and reread their encounter with Flemeth, and how Hawke made good on her promise and brought the amulet to the Dalish elves. He wondered what Mythal was truly planning with such a thing. Surely she had not actually entrusted her life to this woman, and the Dalish of all people. Did the Dalish even truly know who she was? The story suggested… but it was all secondhand. Varric could have written it to sound more mysterious than it was.

He was halfway through one of their encounters with the Qunari when a gentle knock at the door interrupted him. Noll’s head popped in to greet him, snowflakes gathered in her dark hair.

“I’m sorry to bother you…” She said after he gestured for her to enter fully.

“You aren’t.” He closed the book and set it to the side before he stood to greet her.

“But you’re reading…” She tilted her head and then grinned. “Varric’s book?”

“I admit to being curious about the Champion of Kirkwall.” Solas admitted. “I did not intend to read it fully, but I will confess that it has very interesting points to it.”

“I agree.” She smiled. “I liked the part when Aveline-“

“Hush, you’ll spoil it.” He interrupted, smiling as well. “I haven’t finished yet.” They shared a laugh, which quickly dissolved into an awkward silence.

“You needed something?” He reminded her, and she looked up at him.

“Oh! I’m sorry, it’s just,” She grimaced. “We closed a lot of rifts today, and the mark, well…”

“It pains you?” He gestured for her to sit at the chair at this desk and dragged another over so he could sit in front of her. She peeled off her glove and gave him her hand to examine.

The first few times he had done this, he found himself repeatedly shocked when he found her hand to be warm. He didn’t know why, but he expected the people of this age to feel cold. He expected them to feel as dead as he thought they were. Her hand was never cold. She was always pleasantly warm, and she wasn’t as dead as he thought she was in the beginning.

She was strange. She was thoughtful and kind. She was open to new ideas and possibilities. She wanted to help, to make things better. To call her a kindred soul would be… to odd for him, but he could not deny that there was, perhaps, a friendship. She was someone he could, if he must, rely on.

“Does it hurt you every time you close a rift?” He ran his finger along the mark on her palm.

“No, not every time.” She explained. “Only after we close many, but it seemed to be the strange rifts in Redcliffe that are causing the pain this evening.”

“Were they harder to close?”

“A little.” She frowned. “I’m not exactly sure how to explain it. It was not harder to pull, but slower to close. With the others… Ah, I’m not sure I’m making sense.”

“No,” He urged. “Go on.”

She laughed at herself. “Well, the others… It is like they want to close. I pull the pieces together and they snap shut, like pulling a heavy door to. The ones in Redcliffe were like pulling a much heavier door, and when you let go it would not close on its own. You have to pull it all the way, and hold it for a moment so it stays.”

“Fascinating. The veil was strange in Redcliffe, and likely it was the same strangeness you felt in your attempt to close the rifts.”

“Yes.” She laughed again, with relief this time. “I’m sorry to bother you so often about the mark. Perhaps if you could teach me how you fix it, I could do this myself rather than having to come to you each time.”

“I would, but I do not think it’s something so easily taught.” He concentrated his magic into her palm, calming the mark. “It is my own knowledge of the Fade and my magic that allows me to do such.”

“I don’t know, I’ve been told I’m rather good at replicating spells.”

He smirked. “I do not doubt your abilities. I’m just not sure I would be able to teach it, not unless you plan on spending many years researching the Fade, as I have.”

“It was only a thought, anyway.” She shrugged and leaned back in the chair a bit as he continued his examination of her mark. “I would miss these talks.”

“I would as well.” He replied, his hand on hers only faltering for the briefest moment. “You are… interesting to talk to.”

She hummed out a laugh and looked at the floor. Her eyelashes were long and dark, and sat prettily on her freckled cheeks. He looked away quickly, and let go of her hand.

“How does it feel now?” He asked her.

“Better.” She opened and closed her hand, then turned her wrist about before slipping her glove on again. “Thank you, Solas.”

“May I ask you something?” He thought of Varric’s novel once more and a question burned in his mind.

“Of course.”

“The Dalish, do they know much of the witch Flemeth?”

“Asha’bellanar?” Noll’s eyebrows knit together. “She is immortal, the only human to be such. She is also a powerful witch and shapeshifter. She is a mother of many, although all of her children are daughters and witches like herself.”

“Ah.”

“You are asking because of Varric’s book?”

He was caught, although he knew it was easy enough for her to make the connection. “Yes, and her involvement with the Dalish clan.”

 She shifted in her seat. “I know that many do not like to acknowledge this fact, but not all Dalish clans are the same. We do not share the same knowledge and customs.” She tilted her head. “That being said, my clan is from the Free Marches. We’ve crossed plans with Sabrae often enough.”

“Sabrae?”

“That was the clan name, my clan name is Lavellan.” She explained. “Sabrae was… They were not the exact same as my clan. Deshanna and Marethari did not get along. There were disputes among the rest of us as well. I had a number of personal disagreements with a few of the hunters.”

“Did you ever meet Merrill?” He asked.

“She was there a few times, but no, I did not meet her.” She laughed nervously. “The animosity between our people meant that when we set up camp side by side we usually did not mingle much.”

“May I ask what led to so much conflict?”

“It was not all out conflict.” Noll clarified. “If that were so, there would’ve been a battle.”

“Are there often battles between the Dalish?”

“Not incredibly often, at least not that I know of.” She sighed. “But ours was a disagreement that led to bitterness between us. It was the Keepers, really. Deshanna said that Marethari was a fool, and so we all thought so. I imagine Marethari said the same, and they all thought so.”

He began to understand. “It is hard to hold respect for a group if you do not find their leader respectable.”

“Yes! Exactly.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m not sure why the Keepers disliked each other so much. Perhaps a disagreement from their youth? Deshanna never told me.”

“You were her first. Did she not trust you?”

“Deshanna is secretive.” Noll shrugged as if it mattered little. “I was not always her first, anyhow.”

They sat in silence for a moment, then Solas asked, “What do you think it was about clan Sabrae that was important to Flemeth?”

“I think they, or at least Marethari, knew her personally.”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “You do?”

“If what it says in the Tale is true, then it would appear so.” Noll made a face. “This could also be the source of conflict between my clan and theirs. If Deshanna knew Marethari was keeping such a secret, I cannot imagine she would take it well.”

“But you said your Keeper was secretive herself.”

“She is.” Noll laughed. “People who keep secrets do not often like secrets being kept from them as well. Anyway, I do not know what their relationship was with Asha’bellanar. If you are curious, perhaps you could get Varric to write to Merrill about it.” She paused for a moment. “If you get answers, I hope you would not mind sharing them with me. I am curious now too.”

Solas smiled. “We shall see. There are more important things to tend to than satisfying our own curiosity.”

“Yes.” Noll nodded. “We will go to Redcliffe again soon. I think that Leliana has a plan.”

“You would like me to go?” Solas asked. “You could bring someone else with you. You do not need to bring me.”

“I could.” Noll admitted. “But you know things that I do not know, and you know how to help with the mark when it hurts. Besides, I trust you.”

“I-“ He swallowed. “Thank you, Herald.”

“And thank you, for your help with my mark.” She stood and smoothed down the wrinkles in her clothes. “I will leave you to your reading.”

“Of course.” He stood and held the door for her as she left, and then closed it behind her.

He stood at the door for a long moment, his hand pressed to the wood, before he returned to his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sure you can guess what's coming next.
> 
> let me know if you enjoy ♥


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